Harry Potter:Intervention
by demigod571
Summary: A new person shares Harry's compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Get ready, its gonna be a wild ride! Bit of a self-insert, rated T as there's a strong chance that rating will be hit.
1. Everything is Prepared?

Prologue: "Everything is prepared?"

It was a dark, cold night in London. The sky was clear, and it was full with the twinkling lights of the stars, which could be seen even through the light pollution of London in 1991. The cold was less surprising then the stars, the date being the night of the 31st of August 1991, the start of autumn. Then again, the hooded man mused as he waited for his guest, it was most unusual for London to be this cold _already. _

The man looked out over the London. It was a beautiful city, even though he already knew it would be more beautiful in twenty years. But anyway, it seemed that his guest was here. Under the dark hood the man wore, a sly smile appeared, and he turned to face the man strolling along the platform towards him.

The second man was hooded, about 6ft 3" tall, and completely dressed in black. He gave a slight nod to the first man, then exhaled and murmured in an undertone "Everything is ready, I assume?" The voice emanating from the hood was dark, almost malicious. Then again, that was hardly surprising, given his recent experience with the first mans…organisation.

The first man inclined his head. "You should encounter no resistance or suspicion. You have a complete history, and quite frankly, your personality should be enough to drive away most people who get curious about you, false history or no. All your equipment has been stashed in the usual maintenance cupboard, with your trunk in a hidden loft above the said cupboard. The rest is up to you."

The second man nodded and turned to leave into the night, but the first man stopped him. He called out "Sam!" When Sam turned, he said "Don't screw this one up. You remember what happened after the last time!" Sam's eyes narrowed alarmingly, but he just turned and strode into the darkness. The first man just sighed, but at that moment a train pulled into the station. He got on and disappeared altogether.

Sam, meanwhile, had swept down the platform to a blue door with 'Employees Only' emblazoned on it. Sam paid little heed to this warning, save only to read the text, simply opening the unlocked door and stepping into the light inside.

In the light, the dark clothes Sam was wearing became even more intimidating. He was dressed in a long, black, hooded coat, with black and red trainers and signs of stubble on the chin peeking out from under the hood.

Sam moved quickly down the staircase just inside the door, and quickly came upon the corridor full of maintenance lockers for the staff in charge of maintaining the rail hub that was Kings Cross. Sam moved towards the ninth on his right, and held his hand against the lock. There was a click, and the door swung open.

Inside the locker was a medium sized black suitcase with a logo emblazoned on it, a red circle, containing a jet black hourglass with a red eye in the bottom area of the hourglass. The logo of Sam's 'Organisation'. He would open the case later, he knew what would be inside. More important was the trunk in a hidden area… somewhere above Sam.

Glancing around at the ceiling, Sam saw what he was looking for: a small, almost imperceptible difference between two spaces on the ceiling. Looking around for something to stand on, Sam noticed a stool at the far end of the corridor. It would do.

Sam went over to it, and got his gloved hands under the rim of the stool before dragging it over to underneath where he had seen what he thought was the entrance to this loft. Leaping up onto it, he looked up at the entrance and tried to get a grip on it. To his great surprise, a square section of paint just crumbled and fell away from the ceiling.

This revealed a gleaming metal square, seamless save for a ridge running down the centre. There was also a button on the side of the square. Disappointingly, it was not large and red, but Sam pushed it anyway. What happened next greatly displeased him.

A large shape fell out of the opening square of the metal and hit him smack in the forehead. He plummeted off the stool, plunging headfirst onto the floor. _That _was going to leave a nasty mark, but that could be resolved later. His head hurt like hell, but he had what he needed. The shape was a large brown cuboid lying on its side halfway down the corridor from him.

Sam walked over to it, and tipped it over so it was the right way up. Sam broke out into a rare grin. On the cuboid were a few latches and a logo: a crest, with a badger, a snake, a raven and a lion, surrounding a large H. "Well" murmured Sam "I guess it's time to save the world…again."


	2. His Own Merits

Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

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Chapter 1: "His own merits"

There was a distinct smell of smoke in the air. _Most _unusual for a modern, British train station. Therefore, naturally, this could only be one place in London: Platform 93/4, that hidden train station in the middle of London that had somehow managed to avoid detection, despite the fact the entrance was in the MIDDLE OF AN EXTREMELY BUSY TRAIN STATION. Seriously, had no one ever managed to just lean straight into the entrance? Nevertheless, here Sam was, and he was scanning the growing crowd growing along the platform next to the scarlet red train. It _was _a beautiful example of a steam train: a long red steam train, with 'HOGWARTS EXPRESS' emblazoned on the side, and a wonderfully nostalgia-inducing cloud of steam pouring out of the top.

But Sam wasn't here to remember the Victorian age, as much as he would love to, he was here to make absolutely sure everything was in place before he got onto the train. Next to him was the trunk he had gotten the night before, with the case inside it as well. Hauling it up in his hands, Sam proceeded down the platform into the veil of smoke that obscured a great deal of the platform.

There were three people he needed to be there, and now he needed to find them before he did anything else. Sam checked the silver watch on his now exposed hands. He had gotten dressed into his Hogwarts uniform when he woke up in the maintenance corridor he had gotten his things from. He glanced down at the emblem of Hogwarts on his chest, and a puzzle came to mind: _How, _Sam mused, _does the Hogwarts emblem the uniform has when it is bought get changed to the emblem of the house the owner is sorted into?_ He shook himself out of his reverie, dammit, he needed to concentrate!

He only had fifteen minutes to ensure everything was in place. Fortune struck, however, when he saw a flash of fiery red hair through the smoke. Sighing in relief, he kept moving forward just to confirm who he had found. Excellent, it was who he thought it was: the Weasley family, seemingly at full strength…yes, the twins, Ginny, Ron, Percy and Molly… everybody who should be there in 1991 was there. Excellent. The question was… was Harry with them? If not, there would be _complications._

Sam narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. A difficult task when he was trying hard to avoid making it to obvious he was staring at the family. Hmm…wait, yes, the twins were hauling a trunk onto the train, yet there was a trunk next to each of them. Good.

Now supremely confident, Sam strode with his trunk past the family and glanced into the entrance onto the train. He had been right, thank god; Harry was there with the Weasley's, everything seemed normal. Excellent, Sam thought as he continued down the platform. Two birds, one stone. Only one person left. Possibly going to be a little difficult to find. She doesn't exactly stand out, after all, or in any way make an effort to have her presence known.

Sam wondered down the platform for another couple of minutes, before starting to get worried-he was running out of platform, and he _still _hadn't found his quarry. He was biting his lip at the end of the platform just five minutes before the train left, questioning what to do next. She seemed not to be here, and if she wasn't, there would be problems.

Swearing under his breath, he just decided to damn the consequences and go along with it, she was either here or she wasn't, if she was, great, business as usual, if she wasn't, things would be difficult. Nonetheless, Sam threw open the door at the very end of the train and climbed aboard with his trunk. Now to find the carriage he was looking for. If he was lucky, Harry would be there but Ron wouldn't be there yet. That would provide the optimum situation.

Hurrying down the train, or at least going as fast as possible with a heavy trunk in hand, glancing in the windows of every compartment, Sam finally saw what he was looking for: a compartment empty save for a boy with messy black hair staring out of a window. Sam knocked on the door, and Harry Potter's head swung round to look at the door. At first looking startled, he quickly relaxed and beckoned Sam in.

Sam slid the door open and said "Hi. I'm Sam." Harry nodded his head and said "Hi, my names Harry, Harry Potter." _Not_ to Sam's very great surprise, Harry blushed slightly as he said this. Sam decided to go easy on the kid. "Good to meet you, I think I've heard of you from somewhere…? But never mind, no matter what it was, it's good to meet you." That seemed to have done the trick, Harry looked relieved and smiled as Sam put his trunk in the space above the seats and sat down across from Harry.

The next few minutes passed in silence. Sam was anything but good company, and it showed. By the end of the sixth minute, Sam was just praying for Ron to arrive so there would be something going on, at the very least. His prayers were not answered until the tenth minute, when the aforementioned Weasley poked his head inside the door and asked: "Mind if I sit there? Everywhere else is full." Sam looked over at Harry, who nodded, before replying "Sure, good to meet you. I'm Sam." "Hi, I'm Ron Weasley" Sam nodded and then returned to what he had been doing before-looking out the window. Harry, meanwhile, was busy being social, something Sam had never _quite_ gotten the hang of. Or, indeed, ever come anywhere near getting the hang of.

"My name's Harry. Harry Potter." Oh great. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Ron, who promptly blurted out in his usual emotional-range-of-a-teaspoon manner: "So have you really got the scar?" Sam really didn't want to, but he had a cover to keep, so he turned his head from the window and pretended to be interested. To be honest, he was curious to see how Harry played this one.

Harry simply responded by raising his hair until the lightning shaped scar on his forehead was revealed to Ron. Ron gasped like a beached whale then, and Sam had an unnatural urge to hit Ron with the previously aforementioned whale at this point. Sadly, there were no whales to hand, so Ron continued in his hopelessly tactless vein of speech, asking: "So that's where You-Know-Who…" Thank whatever gods there were, he hadn't said the rest of the sentence. But the damage was done. _Lovely._

Harry visibly stiffened, his brow furrowing ever so slightly in a way most unusual for an eleven year old, and the corners of his mouth just slipping down a tad. He recovered quickly however, enabling Sam to thoroughly change the subject with "Wait, who's You-Know-Who?" Sam acting ignorant was almost convincing. Almost. No one with an IQ above 90 would have fallen for it. So Harry and Ron fell for it immediately.

"Whaddya mean 'who's You-Know-Who'? _Everyone _knows who You-Know-Who is" said Ron, with what was almost a sneer. Right, gloves off, thought Sam. He arched an eyebrow, and simply said. "Well, excuse a _muggleborn _for not knowing every last damn thing about the wizarding world." Ron went through several emotional stages then: first of confusion, then of realisation, then of offense, then something Sam couldn't identify…it was almost _contempt._

"Muggleborn eh? Well I'll bet it's amazing for you, all this magic." Sam's turn to be contemptuous, "It's yet to impress" Sam replied coolly. Ron seemed gobsmacked by the very notion that someone couldn't adore every aspect of the Wizarding World. "What on earth d'you mean? Magic is great! What in the Muggle world could possibly be better then all this?" Sam sighed, and began to explain.

"Ron. I come from a world where humanity has conquered earth, sea and sky. There are now so many different things in our world all connected by Muggle technology-planes, trains, cars, the internet, phones, boats and a host of other technology-and guess what? None of it works around magic! None of it! So, a distinct lack of technology for a start. Second! The sheer bigotry! I may not know much about this world, but I know enough to know that this is a world ruled by the rich, by the powerful, by the pureblood, male wizards. A world where women, muggleborns, half-blood's, and _people_ such as werewolves or metamorphmagi are abused and trampled into the dust. I come from a world where a woman can be anyone in society, and I reject the bigotry I see emanating from this world!" Sam would have continued his rant, but he noticed a familiar figure standing in the doorway.

Hermione Jean Granger was standing in the compartment doorway with a neutral expression on her young face, but she had an eyebrow arched for reasons Sam was unable to discern. "Finished yet?" She asked in her characteristic self-esteem crushing, bossy voice. Sam wasn't, but as far as he was concerned, equal rights was probably not the best opening topic for an eleven year old. Even Hermione. "For now. My name is Sam, what's your name?" Still had to keep up appearances.

"I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger, nice to meet you. I haven't heard of you, so I assume…" She looked questioningly at Sam "Yeah, I'm a muggleborn. Hadn't you guessed?" She smiled, then noticed Harry. Oh dear. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you? I've read all about you, there are so many books about you." She was studying him like a science experiment, but at least she had remembered there were other people in the compartment. "You're a very interesting person"

She then turned on Ron. "Who are you then?" Well, thought Sam, that could have been more suave I suppose. Best give Ron some help here. Not he needs to know. He had a plan. "My name is Ron. Nice to meet you Hermione." Sam almost choked on air; Ron had just been polite on his first meeting with Hermione. Interesting. That certainly merited observation.

"I can't wait to go to Hogwarts! It's very interesting, I've read all about it, in _Hogwarts: A History-" _Sam phased out. Listening to Hermione ramble about Hogwarts never had been very interesting, and it was unlikely to become so when she repeated the same source of information time after time again. "By the way Sam, since you are so openly opposed to magic, have actually got any experience with it?" Hermione, standing in the doorway, had changed her expression from curious to 'your back is against the wall and you know it' expression. How sad for her.

Sam's reply was succinct and impressive, even if he did give away a little too much of his power, knowledge and skill. "Say Hermione, did you not come here on behalf of Neville Longbottom, who has lost his toad?" When she nodded, he produced his wand, a fairly standard issue 10" wand filled with a core of dragon heartstring wrapped in oak. It was mainly for appearances, and was not his weapon of choice. Hopefully his presence would create the correct atmosphere to allow him to use the rest of his repertoire. "Well, I shall have to resolve that. _Accio..._what was the toad's name?" "Trevor" "Ah, thanks. _Accio Trevor!"_

Perhaps that had been a mistake. The sound of a sudden scream emanated from somewhere on the train, followed by several clunking noises, accompanied by some ugly splattering noises. Then an ugly, warty greyish-brown toad slammed headlong into the compartment door, before drooping sadly to the plush carpet floor. "Well…that could have gone better, I suppose." Nonetheless, mission accomplished. "Now, Hermione, where was Neville?"

Slightly shocked, she answered quietly "He's been looking up and down the train for Trevor." "Well, I'd best go find him. Don't go anywhere!" Sam sprang up and slid the compartment door into the wall. Bending down, he picked up the slimy grey…object in his hands and looked the opposite direction Trevor had come from. Sam had very good eyes, but even he couldn't see what was on the other side of an easily quarter mile train, which appeared to be going round a bend. Searching it was then.

Sam began to walk quickly down the train, glancing quickly into each compartment. The entire time Trevor was squelching in his hands. Delightful. His glancing into compartments is what led to him slamming headfirst into someone who was engaged in the same activity. Ah, he appeared to have found Neville Longbottom.

"Neville?" Sam asked. The boy, nodding, had tears in his eyes, noted Sam. So different from the Neville he knew would develop- a lot sooner if he had anything to say about it. "I think I have found your toad." He held up Trevor, and the toad leapt into Neville's lap. The boy broke into a grin "Thank you!" Exclaimed Neville excitedly, all sadness forgotten. "Excellent." Sam grinned, before frowning. Neville still had his trunk next to him.

Suspicious, Sam asked "Say, you aren't all alone, are you?" Neville looked at the floor, before affirming what Sam had worried. "Then come with me, I know some people I think you might like." Neville looked worried, so Sam leapt to his feet, grabbed Neville's hand, dragged him up, and dragged both him and his trunk towards the compartment he shared with the others.

Inside the compartment, Ron, Hermione and Harry were still busy discussing magic, Hogwarts, etc. The door had been slid shut in is brief absence. Odd. Sam grasped the handle and slid open the door, the conversation ended abruptly. Ah hell, they weren't sure about him. Lovely, trust issues always managed to complete his life. Nevertheless, he forged ahead. "Hey guys, this is Neville, Neville Longbottom." Neville stuttered out a hello, before taking his things inside and sitting in the seat next to the door, next to Sam's position next to the window. The journey then proceeded much as it had been before-the others talking, albeit a little more cautiously then previously, and Sam staring out of the window. He was trying to work out how to get involved when he heard a squeaking noise. Sam flung his away from the window to look at Ron. In Ron's hand, there was a rat.

A small, fluffy, innocent, brown, rat. Such a fragile thing, so easy to just lean over and break the traitor. So simple, so easy, so much would be better with the world. And yet, Sam acknowledged internally, he was going to have to sit tight the way he always did in this situation. Think of Sirius, of Harry, he reminded himself. If that rat died, all that would be lost forever-unless Sam pulled off a political work of art and secured a fair trial for the man. Since that was very bloody likely. Nevertheless, he would just have to leave well enough alone…for now. One day the rat would pay for his crimes, a day Sam anticipated greatly.

While Sam was attempting to prevent himself from committing murder upon a rat, Ron was talking about the limited features of his rat when an opportunity presented itself for amusement and a free boost to Ron's confidence. "The twins-my brothers, Fred and George-they taught me a spell to turn him yellow. Here!" As Ron prepared to say the dud incantation, Sam let loose a tentacle of Legilimency into Ron's brain. Although his brain was sadly lacking in many useful features, Sam was quickly able to isolate the 'magical' sections of the brain and inject just a _tad _of energy into them. Sam withdrew and watched the results. "-yellow!" Finished Ron, and all of a sudden the rat was a beautiful sunflower shade of yellow. Out of the corner of his eye Sam noted Hermione glancing at him suspiciously, even as she joined in with the general impressment. How the hell did she guess he had something to do with it!? He was going to have to rethink several things over the next few days, and keep a careful check on how obvious he was with his powers.

The next couple of hours were fairly quiet, with Sam now taking part in the group's conversation. Sam was able to guess that they were nearing Hogwarts based on the fact that the mechanics in his watch had broken. He was just about to mention this when he saw the last person, well, almost the last, that he wanted to see. Draco Malfoy, of medium stature, white hair, sneering appearance, and the backbone of an invertebrate. Standing next to him were Goon #'s 1 and 2, or Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

And naturally, the door slid open and Draco launched his scheme to make all bow down before him. The grand plan began with "Who here is Harry Potter?" The overwhelming rudeness of this opening was immediately obvious to everyone in the compartment. Regardless, Harry pointed himself out, and demanded to know what it was to Draco. Sam found himself wondering when Harry had become so assertive. Draco then began his spiel about the true nonsense that was Blood Purity. Sam couldn't help but chuckle as he listened to the propaganda.

"Something funny?" snapped Draco harshly when he heard the chuckle. Sam stood up "Actually, yes, now that you mention it. Listening to idiots who cannot accept the facts of their own weakness spew idiocy that somehow makes them out as superior has always been a bit of an amusement to me." Having said what he had to say. Sam sat down again. He seemed to have shaken Draco sufficiently though, at least for now, as Draco simply murmured "You'll pay for this." In what he clearly believed to be a menacing tone before turning on his heels and advancing in the opposite direction.

Sam looked around at the people around him, all looking ever so slightly awestruck, and said "What? We should probably be getting ready now. My watch has stopped working, so I assume we are nearly at Hogwarts."


	3. Twisting Fate

Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

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Chapter 2: Twisting Fate

Everyone else in the compartment got changed into their robes, finishing just as the ancient train squealed to a halt in Hogsmeade station. He heard Harry and Hermione let out sharp breaths of anticipation. Sam had to confess that he was apprehensive to. Admittedly, his reason for being so were wildly different to theirs, but still, he felt a nervousness he had never felt on such an occasion before. Why? What had changed? This would certainly be…interesting.

The cool night air as Sam stepped off the train was a refreshing blast in his face, replacing the mild air conditioned atmosphere inside the train. Sam was glad to be leaving the train behind. This was because he knew what lay ahead. First of all, Hogsmeade. The beautiful little hamlet of Hogsmeade.

It truly was beautiful. A small little town nestled in the wilderness, kept warm by firelight and kept lit by candlelight. It had the almost _magical_, pun intended, quality that enchanted Christmas Markets the world over. The old, mediaeval style of building helped with that. And of course, knew Sam, nearby lay the ancient castle of Hogwarts. Or: his home for the next seven years. Or less. Or more. _That _was the beauty of Sam's work-the variables. He had not one iota of a clue what was going to happen over the next few years. And tonight would be the first major step.

His reverie as he stared over the village was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. It was Hermione, and she was staring with some shock at something a little further down the platform. There was a very slight mist over the area that night, and Sam had to squint to see what she was pointing at…ah. Hagrid.

"Firs' years over 'ere, Firs' years over 'ere!" came the booming voice of Hogwarts's very own half-giant gamekeeper. A man truly capable of shocking someone. After all, he was easily nine foot, clearly possessed considerable strength, and did not exactly appear like a calm and reasonable person, no matter how much he might be, people would always make assumptions based on appearance. Sam nudged Hermione and she snapped out of the shock, and with Harry, Ron and Neville, and the sunflower rat, they made their way down the platform towards Hagrid. Naturally, Hagrid was extremely pleased to see Harry. That much was perfectly clear. "'Arry! Great ta see yeh, who are yeh friends?" boomed Hagrid, peering from under his great bushy eyebrows at the group. Ron, Neville and Hermione all looked nervous, but introduced themselves, while Sam simply kept a neutral expression and said "Nice to meet you, I'm Sam, you're Hagrid right?" "Tha's me Sam, good to see 'Arry's found some friends." Sam smiled at the man. Hagrid turned and beckoned them to follow him as he led the rest of the First Years towards the magical boat trip.

The lake was incredible that night. The mist clung to the air just above the water, casting a delightful aura of mystery over the inky black water. The silvery full moon shone out from behind a cloud high in the sky, casting a pale light to go with the mist and the water. Sam's quiet calm as he walked down to the small pier was shattered only by the thought that, somewhere out there, a lonely werewolf would be spending another night in unspeakable agony. "I'll find you soon, old friend" murmured Sam under his breath. Yes, securing the rat and getting Sirius out of Azkaban would have to be top priority-Dumbledore, Sam scowled just thinking about the old man, would undoubtedly cause unnecessary issues with the release of a perfectly innocent man, and Harry doesn't have the advantage of having been brought into the magical world independently of Dumbledore. Sam would have to tread carefully tonight.

As the party arrived at the water's edge, Hagrid started organising them all into groups of four for the boat. Sam breathed a guilty sigh of relief when Neville wondered off to join some other students. It wasn't that he didn't like Neville; it was just that the next few minutes would be critical for determining his friendship with the others, and it was essential it be done _properly._

Sam felt a bizarre pang of guilt as the group climbed into their little boat-wasn't what he was doing here wrong? Wasn't toying with people's lives wrong? Hell, that was what he was doing; he had done it a hundred times. Tiny, minute changes every time he lived through the timeline, an infinite number of possibilities each time. But this time, this time was different. He could _sense _it. What was different? What had been interfered with? It would have to be discovered. But the worm of doubt was in Sam's heart, and he was suddenly facing a serious emotional crisis. One which clearly shone through on his face, as he realised Harry was looking at him with concern. In response, he tilted his head slightly, inquiringly, until Harry seemed reassured and turned away.

But still…that was proof that what he was doing was wrong, wasn't it? Harry had just shown serious concern for someone he had just met a few hours ago, and that very person was now planning out how best to experiment with everything he loved. Who the hell did he think he was? Well, at least one decision to rectify that had been taken: Sam was informing them of who he really was as soon as was remotely possible and safe. So probably the end of the year. Until then, yay, self-guilt trips.

Even Sam's reverie was broken, however, by the sight of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry emerging from around the cliff face that had been obscuring it from view. And a sight it was to behold! Perched nobly among the hills, a fortress, a bastion of light and knowledge, a mediaeval castle for the purpose of teaching. And what a castle!

It was fairly dull in terms of brickwork, yes, but the lights, and the tall, towering spires, _they _made the castle truly impressive! And this, this was to be his home for _probably _six years-but who knew? Certainly not Sam, seeing as how he was already planning to allow all Hell to break loose this time around, why not throw in a little bit of uncertainty. Maybe he would even have some fun this time around, instead of the constant, meticulous planning he was usually involved in. Excellent, they were already nearly there; the little boats were faster than they looked, and Sam couldn't wait to get started. The others knowing his real identity soon would undoubtedly help matters, and add in that extra tinge of uncertainty he so desperately needed. Being a God got boring after the first few thermonuclear explosions, after all.

As they beached and climbed out of the boats, Sam revelled in the feeling of the soft sand under his shoes. How had he forgotten this? When had he stopped being normal, started being nothing but a killer with a habit of twisting fate to his own ends? That ended tonight, he decided, forever. From now on he wasn't just an agent of the 'Organisation', but an honest ally of Harry James Potter, and that was just fine with him. Sam glanced up-he had been staring at the cobblestones in the road as he thought-and realised they had arrived at the magnificent doors of Hogwarts. Hagrid strode up to the doors, and hammered his fist upon the door three times, each creating a noise of seismic proportions.

And then the majestic doors opened up into Hogwarts itself, revealing the magnificent marble-clad, candlelit Entrance Hall. And standing alone in the Entrance Hall, there stood a woman-Professor Minerva McGonagall. Looking as stern as ever, she strode over in her emerald-green robes to greet the group. Hagrid cleared his throat, and said "Here yeh are Professor-the firs' years." Professor McGonagall nodded and spoke in a heavily Scottish accent to the group "Follow me."

She turned, and walked into the Entrance Hall, the first years following behind her. As they walked into the Entrance Hall, it only became more magnificent, as it could be seen that the stairwell next to the large wooden doors they were walking towards went up at least two hundred meters, and everything was constructed so magnificently-marble coated the stairs, elegant brickwork covered the floor, and the finest woodwork went into the large doors into the Great Hall. Where they would be sorted. Yes, moment of truth here-would the Hat here him out, he wondered briefly, or would it be game over already? Sam dearly hoped not, the Hat had no reason to sell him out-yet. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was explaining The Sorting Ceremony "…are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each has a distinguished history, and all have produced outstanding Witches and Wizards. While you are here, your House will become your family, and any accomplishments will earn you House Points, while rulebreaking will lose you House Points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will win the House Cup a-" Ah, yes, the divisive and chaos causing House Cup, "-honour. It is hoped you will all be a credit to your house. Please wait here until I retrieve you." With that, Hagrid and the Professor turned and slipped through the door into the Great Hall.

The moment the door shut behind them, excited and nervous chatter broke out in the group. Hermione immediately turned to Harry, Ron and Sam and began whispering at a worryingly rapid rate: "What do you think we need to do? How will they sort us? Will we need magic? Can they do that?" Sam whispered back "Don't worry, it's very simple, don't worry about it, and don't ask how I know" Ron just muttered "Guess it's more likely than fighting a troll, that's what Fred and George told me." Harry just looked worried, so Sam reached over and held his shoulder, and smiled at him. Harry seemed to relax, at least visibly, but that was all he could do for now. Hermione clearly had not relaxed, as she was babbling quietly about every spell she knew. And then there was a scream.

Through a solid stone wall on the far side of the room, away from where the quad had been facing, there had emerged a group of pale figures from about ten meters in the air, which was unnerving in itself. What was actually terrifying was when aforementioned figures swooped down into the group of children, several passing straight through the group, leaving more than a few frozen insides, before pulling to a halt just in front of the door to the Great Hall. Sam only recognised two of the ghosts, of which there was a surprising number-Lady Ravenclaw stood silently and morosely as usual on the far left of the group, while the Fat Friar was in the centre of the group. Interestingly, Nearly Headless Nick was nowhere to be seen, and Sam presumed that the ghost was already in the Great Hall. "Ah! First Years? Waiting to be sorted, I suppose?" boomed the Fat Friar heartily. After a general murmur of assent from the crowd, the ghosts chuckled and the Friar said "Well, I hope to see some of you in Hufflepuff, my old House, you know!" And with that end to the bizarre encounter, the ghosts melted through the door into the Great Hall.

Sam was getting a little impatient, being in a room full of nervous people-Ron and Hermione were still visibly terrified, and Harry was starting to look nervous again-was irritating when you _knew _there was nothing to be worried about, but you couldn't tell them. Unfortunately, there was one more situation that decided to present itself at that moment. Draco was back.

"Potter!" Harry turned, a look of curiousness, quickly replaced with indifference "Yes?" Draco looked pleased to have gotten a response. Sam _had _to let Harry handle this, who was he to try and shelter him? As pleasing as it would be to destroy Draco already, now was not the appropriate moment. "I thought I'd try and say what I said earlier when your _friend _isn't around. You should know, Potter, that some Witches and Wizards are inferior to others. Some are better than others. You would do well to start out with those kinds of Witches and Wizards, don't you think?" Draco held out his hand. Harry considered him for a moment, before speaking.

"I think I'm just fine with who I know. I don't like people who demean others, Draco Malfoy, yes I know who you are, and that is just what you're doing. So I suggest that you go away." Sam snickered, that was good. Draco's almost vampiric face filled with blood for just a moment, and he snarled "You _will _regret this, Potter!" With that, he turned on his heels and strode off in Sam's direction.

"Having fun, Draco?" Sam chuckled, a chuckle which only strengthened when the boy threw him a genuinely murderous look. "Watch who you mess with, _muggleborn_." Muttered the Malfoy heir, shoving Sam out of the way. Sam looked at Harry, both with a grin on their faces. "Good work, Harry, good to know that you know what you're talking about." Harry just laughed, before turning around again to look at the doors, which were slowly opening again.

This time, the doors swung fully open, revealing Professor McGonagall standing in the entrance to the Great Hall. She beckoned them in, and strode down towards the Teachers Table. Few noticed this, however, as they were utterly absorbed in the Great Hall itself-just like most of Hogwarts, it was magnificent.

The same brick floor as the Entrance Hall, with absurdly shiny oak wood tables decked with as-yet empty golden plates and goblets, also absurdly shiny. The windows on either side of the Great Hall were tall and clear, made of the finest glass. But it was, naturally, the enchanted ceiling that captivated the most.

Tonight, the ceiling had the moon directly overhead, casting the upper walls in sickly pale lights. In the view offered by the ceiling, the night was clear, offering a fantastic view of the stars, like twinkling jewels in the inky darkness. Sadly, the view was slightly ruined by the hundreds of floating candles that illuminated the room.

As the first years walked up the Great Hall, the students sitting on the benches surveyed them with interest. Sam also suspected a couple of them had noticed Harry, who Sam was walking next to, judging by the pointed fingers and whispers as the duo passed. And then, at the end of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, they stopped, with Sam nearly bumping headlong into a boy he reckoned to be Dean Thomas. Professor McGonagall turned and spoke to them. "The Sorting Ceremony will now begin. When your name is called, you will come up to this stool and the Sorting Hat will be placed on your head. The Sorting Hat will then determine which House is best for you." With that, she produced a list presumably containing the names of the new students, and started reeling off names. There were a few Gryffindors and Slytherins, barely any Ravenclaws and great numbers of Hufflepuffs. Then, finally.

"Griffiths, Sam!" announced Professor McGonagall, and Sam walked up to and sat on the stool. The Hat was dropped on his head, coming over his eyes, leaving the world obscured to him. Then, a voice in his head.

"_Well, well, well, what do we have here?" _the voice of the Sorting Hat was _ very _stereotypically British "_I think you know who I am, Hat." _Sam thought in reply.

"_Well, obviously, I can see your entire mind. And yes, I will help you with your plan, but be careful-the consequences of your actions could be further reaching then you could possibly imagine. The changes this time will be…titanic."_

"_Thank you, that is all I ask" _Sam thought, ignoring the last point the Hat made. Then he waited expectantly for the Hat's announcement which promptly came "RAVENCLAW!" Sam grinned as the hat was removed from his head before walking quickly over to the Ravenclaw table as the said students clapped. He found a seat near the exit to the Great Hall, more or less alone. Now then, would the Hat follow through? It had with Hermione, now a Gryffindor, but would it do so with Harry and Ron?

Sam's musings were interrupted by another roar of "RAVENCLAW!" Sam's head shot up and he had been proven correct. Harry was taking off the Hat and walking towards the end of the table where Sam was, followed by wild clapping and cheering from the Ravenclaw table. Sam grinned at Harry as he sat down across from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dumbledore looking highly disgruntled. Ron had also been made a Gryffindor, and was chatting with Hermione and Neville. Excellent. All was well.

Since Harry was so far down the list, there were few names left and soon the Sorting was over. The Hat was taken away, and Dumbledore got up to make his meaningless Start of Feast speech. Then the golden plates and goblets filled with all manner of delicious food, and Sam followed Harry's example and took a little bit of everything except the mint humbugs, and dug in. Sam didn't think he'd ever enjoyed a meal more, and Sam and Harry spent a lot of time talking, mainly about their lives. Sam was shocked when Harry told him about the Dursleys, mainly because he had expected Harry to clam up when asked about his home life. Sam felt genuinely warmed that Harry trusted him enough to tell him about that already.

Soon enough it was time for dessert, and the various foods were replaced with all manner of cakes, sweets and tarts. Sam wasn't that hungry after the huge meal, so he just picked up a couple of plain biscuits, while Harry somehow managed to get down a large slice of sickly treacle tart. When the last forks had hit the plates, the tables were suddenly cleared, and Dumbledore got up again.

"Now that we are fed and watered" And, apparently, horses "I have a few announcements to make, first of all, I would like to welcome our new students, and hope that you will enjoy your time at our school. Secondly, the Forbidden Forest is, naturally, forbidden. Thirdly, the Third Floor corridor on the left hand side is completely forbidden to all students on pain of death." Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles at the utterly silent students. He had reassured them all of his seriousness. "Well then, I think that's all, so I think it's time for bed! Prefects will take the First Years to their dormitories. Off you trot!"

As Harry and Sam lay down on the fantastic four-poster beds, Sam knew he needed to go, and soon. He had a few things to do that night. He slowly turned his head to look at all the boys in the dormitory. They had been too tired for introductions that night, and had just gone straight to bed, so neither Harry nor Sam knew the boys in the Ravenclaw dormitory, although Sam would probably be able to dredge the knowledge up. Excellent, everyone was asleep.

Sam climbed out of bed, slowly so as to not disturb anyone, and made his way over to the door of the dormitory. Before he left, though…Sam stretched out his fingers, putting his right hand in the position one might put them in to hold a football with one hand. "_Vis_" Sam whispered, and an obsidian-black orb of pure energy formed in his hand. Then, Sam whispered "_Abscondere Meípso._" The ball of energy shot towards Sam and wrapped him in a cloak of pure darkness. Sam looked down. The spell was working properly-none but himself could see him. Pushing the dormitory door open quietly, he poked his head out and looked up and down the stairs between the boys dormitories. No one. Slipping out and closing the door behind him, Sam quickly but quietly jogged down the stairs.

When he arrived in the common room though, he realised the floor created a very quiet ringing noise when it was walked on. Damn! Sam repeated the procedure from earlier, summoning a ball of energy in his hand, but instead of Abscondere Meípso, he said "_Silentium Meum Motu." _This time, instead of engulfing him, the energy rushed to his feet, muffling his movement. With that problem rectified, Sam moved towards the doors of the dormitory, the enchanted, riddle-protected statue that guarded Ravenclaw house. Outside, in the corridor, Sam retraced the steps that they had taken from the Great Hall. From there, he could get to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Sam had not anticipated the gargoyle. He had managed to evade Severus Snape and Argus Filch, but he could not get past a reanimated stone gargoyle. Sam was well aware that Dumbledore's passwords were always sweets, but he had realised upon his arrival that he didn't know a damn thing about Wizarding sweets. Sam racked his brains, thinking about the confectionary that wizards enjoyed. Hmm…ah yes, Sam hadn't tried those yet! "Cauldron Cakes!" Sam whispered to the Gargoyle.

The gargoyle sighed, but gave way and rolled to the side. Smirking to himself, Sam moved towards the stairs, but murmured "_Revelare meípso!" _first. The wave of energy he had been engulfed in returned to his hand and made himself visible again, Sam made his way up the stairs to the door of Dumbledore's office. Gulping to himself, he knocked on the door.

"Come in!" came the tired voice of Albus Dumbledore. Sam let out a deep breath, and opened the door. "Professor." Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "It is late, young Sam. I assume your business is urgent?" Sam narrowed his eyes in response. "Yes. It's about Harry." That got his attention. "Come, sit. Say what you have to say."

Sam sat down in the chair. "While we were on the train, Harry told me about his home life. He told me about the abuse he suffered at the Dursley's. He told me everything. And I had a question that needed answering." He eyed Dumbledore. "I _know _certain…information…that may cast serious doubt on why he was sent there. I know, for instance, that Sirius Black, Harry's Godfather and rightful guardian, was taken to Azkaban without a trial for the crimes he was charged with. I also know that Remus Lupin is still at liberty-why was _he _not Harry's guardian instead?" Sam was glaring at Dumbledore by the end of this tirade. Dumbledore looked unnerved, as well he should. It was clear to Sam that Dumbledore _really _didn't want to answer, but he did anyway. "Remus vanished soon after the Potter's murder, as for Sirius, what would you have me do? The evidence against him is circumstantial, yes, but there is _no _evidence that Sirius is innocent either. My hands are tied. Why? Do you have some evidence?" Sam grinned.

"No, but I know where it is. It will be under a cover on your plate at breakfast tomorrow morning. Good night, Professor." Dumbledore smiled. "Good night, Sam."

* * *

Sam was at the Fat Lady's portrait, he had made himself invisible again, and he was now attempting to remember the password to Gryffindor Tower. Ah yes, that was it! "Caput Draconis!" Sam whispered, and the portrait swung open. Excellent, now to find Scabbers, a simple task. Summoning energy with _Vis, _Sam murmured "_Evoco Scabbers!" _A squealing noise came from upstairs. Hopefully no one would awaken. Quickly, a bright yellow rat landed in Sam's waiting arms quickly, Sam hid Scabbers with a quick "_Hanc Abscondere!" _Sam grinned to himself. _He had the rat!_ Now, he just needed to keep the squeaking creature quiet. That would be simple enough-first he needed the energy to use hostile magic, a little different from normal _Vis _energy .

"_Vis Hostilis"_ murmured Sam, and an orb of crimson energy formed in his hand, bathing the Gryffindor common room in red light. Then, Sam thrust Scabbers into the orb and intoned "_Suspendo"_ The orb of energy flew into Scabbers. Scabbers stopped squealing, and just floated in the now vacant air. Sam grabbed him and thrust him into the pockets of the cloak he had put on. First two objectives: achieved. Superb!


	4. First Day

Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

* * *

Chapter 3: First Day

Sam rolled over in bed and opened his eyes, but when he did so he found Harry staring at him, clearly waiting. "Hi. So, uh, how long have I been asleep?" Harry chuckled "Its 8:30 Sam." Ah, so he had missed breakfast. Hopefully it would be communicated to him that Dumbledore had got the rat, which he had left invisible in suspension under a cover on Dumbledore's plate, just like he'd said. Getting back into the conversation with Harry, Sam wondered "Is it best for me to get out of bed?" Harry nodded emphatically, and Sam clambered out of bed and got changed. "So, what have we got today then?" He asked as he got into his robes. "No idea" came Harry's response. Sam paused for a moment, and then sighed before getting his robes on and saying "Lovely."

* * *

Sam and Harry quickly discovered that a combination of oversleeping and having Transfiguration first thing was not a good one. The classroom was nestled away in a place the stairways seemed most uncooperative in getting them too. They got to class about ten minutes late, and Sam was grim about the fact that there was a cat sitting on Professor McGonagall's desk. Harry turned to Sam as they sat down, sighing, saying "Well, I think we made it in time." Sam shook his head. "No, we didn't, if my assumptions are correct, that cat…"

His 'assumptions' were quickly proven correct when the cat leapt off the table, before transforming into Professor McGonagall in mid-air. "Well, Mr Griffiths, you may assume your assumptions correct, and, late as you are, I must ask how you managed to make such a guess."

Sam shrugged. "It's not that hard. This is Transfiguration, that was an Animagus form, Animagi are the ultimate show of skill in Transfiguration. Looking at it from that perspective, it isn't that hard to guess." Harry's eyebrows had shot into his hairline by the end of this, and Professor McGonagall was visibly impressed. "Very well argued Mr Griffiths, so much so I shall let the lateness of yourself and Mr Potter go, this once. Please ensure you are on time next lesson."

The rest of the lesson was fairly simple-they were assigned the task of trying to get a match as close as they could to a needle. Sam managed this quickly, even though he found the more intent-based, Hogwarts taught magic far more difficult than magic derived from _Vis._ He then set about helping out Harry with his work, and by the end of the lesson, he and Sam were the only two to have achieved a total transformation. In fact, they, much to Sam's irritation, walked out with more house points then they had been in danger of losing for lateness. Sam's irritation stemmed from his dislike of the divides caused by the House Cup-there had been plenty of violence over this in Hogwarts, and there would be plenty more for as long the damned thing ran on. But Sam had more immediate concerns, such as an irate Potions Master whose classroom they were rapidly approaching. Well, this would probably _not _be fun. But who knew?

* * *

Sam established it would not be fun the moment he saw Snape. He very clearly despised everything about Harry already-how did he _do _that, just hate someone despite having never spoken to them before based entirely on the fact that he resembles his father who you still hate with every fibre of your soul? How does that even work. Sam used this thought so as to achieve the quiet and obedient look-not a natural for Sam- and get to his seat without an international incident.

This reminded him-Harry's Occlumency. He would have to teach him, and soon, but for now…he performed a similar exercise to what he had done to Ron on the train, letting out a tendril of Legilimency and throwing it towards Harry. This time however, instead of invading Harry's mind, he simply formed a perimeter around his mind, waiting for Snape's strike.

Meanwhile, Snape had begun his actually rather good speech on Potions, talking about bottling fame, brewing glory, and stoppering death, all possible, if… and of course Snape ruins it. I'm reasonably certain assuming your students are dunderheads is an overly cynical look at the world, and there is no place for cynics teaching first years, surely? Nevertheless, Snape would be firing off those accursed questions soon, would he actually accept Sam's hand? Then Sam had a thought…is Harry was sorted into Ravenclaw, wasn't that more or less good evidence he wasn't James Potter #2? Well, he was about to find out how the mind of Severus Snape worked.

"Potter!" Well, damn, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Sam put his hand up, but at the same time was moving quickly to plant the knowledge in Harry's brain in a rather more complex manoeuvre then what he was experienced with, nonetheless, within thirty seconds Harry answered "The Draught of Living Death, sir." Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously, and then produced his next question. "Well then, since you decided to do some _studying, _how about this? Where would I find, a bezoar?" Same procedure, same result, "In the stomach of a goat, sir."

Interestingly, Snape's eyes had gone from dangerously narrowed to almost curious. "Very well, Mr Potter" What on Earth?! "What is the difference between Monkswood and Wolfsbane?" Uh, since when did Snape call _Harry _ 'Mr Potter'? Sam knew there would be wild changes, but this was absurd. Nonetheless, Sam planted the third bit of information into Harry's mind. "They are the same plant, sir, sometimes called aconite."

Snape inclined his head "Precisely, Mr Potter." He waved his wand at the blackboard, and the three points Harry had just made were on the board. "Please copy this down." He asked the class. For a couple of minutes the dungeon was filled with the sound of scratching quills. Sam was now abjectly terrified. What the hell was going on? Snape being polite, to Harry and the class, _asking _them to do something…maybe Snape had been converted after all. Maybe. Sam would just wait and see what happened in the rest of the lesson.

After they had finished copying out the three points, Snape flung the blackboard round and there was the recipe for a reasonably simple first day test. A potion of curing boils. Delightful, but some things need to be done. "This is a simple potion I will use to test your abilities. The instructions are on the board. Start when you are ready." Sam decided to withdraw from Harry's mind for this. Harry was probably safe now, and Sam would need all of himself in one place for this.

It _was _a simple potion, and the instructions were actually carefully laid out for once. Always pleasant to have proper instructions. Potion-brewing is simple once you start looking at it like cooking, thought Sam, except the recipe sounded downright bizarre. Sam could envision it in his mind's eye: "When the water is simmering nicely, add the crushed snake fangs and the dried nettles, and leave it to boil. After five minutes, begin to stew the horned slugs in a separate bowl, and take the mixture of snake fangs and dried nettles off the heat. Add the porcupine quills to this mixture and then add the slugs when nicely stewed. Stir and you are done."

By the time his potion was done, Sam was practically vibrating with laughter. He had managed to pull the potion off though, and so had Harry, superbly enough. Everyone, for the first time in history, left Professor Snape's potions classroom in high spirits. Sam was very pleased, and very scared, with how that lesson had panned out.

* * *

Back in the Common Room that night, Sam and Harry were sitting at a table in a quiet corner of the room, where Sam was introducing Harry to the Muggle version of chess. The version which required calm, careful strategies, instead of simply hoping your pieces go where they are ordered to go. Sam had just seen how best to lure Harry into a trap when a beautiful snowy owl, who Sam recognised as Hedwig, tapped on the window closest to them. Sam got out of his chair and retrieved the message. Sam was more than surprised when he saw the intended recipient

"Uh… Harry, why does Hedwig have something for me?" Sam was utterly perplexed and it was clear Harry was too. "Well, go on, open it!" said Harry impatiently. Sam flipped the letter over, and instantly knew who it was from when he saw that the letters wax seal was emblazoned with a phoenix. Dumbledore. Had there been progress with Sirius's situation? Sam doubted he had had the time, unless he had moved very quickly indeed. Sam broke the seal with his finger and unfolded the letter:

_Sam,_

_I found the evidence you gave me, and have successfully revived Peter Pettigrew. That he of all people could have betrayed the Potters is truly shocking. With this evidence the Ministry should be convinced of Sirius's innocence. However, without Harry backing me up, I fear that the Minister will manage to brush me off._

_I do not want to have to ask you to do this, but I feel there is little choice. I need you to tell Harry the story of Sirius Black, convince him of his innocence, and persuade him to help me to convince Amelia Bones and the Minister._

_Yours truly,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

So be it, Albus Dumbledore, but you owe me. Sam looked at Harry mournfully. "Sam? Sam? What's in the letter? Who's it from?" Harry seemed slightly nervous. He probably hadn't seen anyone react to a letter in this specific manner before. Beforehand, however, he used _Vis_ combined with "_Nemo audi nos!" _To silence themselves to all but each other.

"The letter, Harry, is from Dumbledore. The letter…well, you need context first. Have you ever heard of Sirius Black?" Harry shook his head. "Then I will tell you his story." And Sam did. He told Harry about how Sirius had been a close friend of his parents at Hogwarts. He told them about their various misadventures, and watched as Harry smiled. Then he moved on to the War. How they had fought against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters together. How they had saved each other's lives time after time. And then…then came the betrayal.

"You see Harry; your parents' house was protected by a powerful charm called the Fidelius Charm. This Charm hid the house from all but those who had been entrusted by the Secret Keeper. The Potter's Secret Keeper was Sirius Black." It was then Sam saw the look that would haunt his dreams for years: a genuinely murderous look on the face of an eleven year old. So young, so innocent…so deadly. Harry composed himself quickly, but his eyes still looked bloodthirsty "Sorry Sam, it's just…" "I know Harry, but hear me out."

"Anyway, when the Potters were murdered, there was a _lot _of reason to suspect that Sirius had gone over to Voldemort. Especially when he travelled to find Peter Pettigrew, who had been another friend of the Potters at school. Sirius murdered him in the middle of the street with a single curse, with twelve Muggles as collateral damage. He was taken away to Azkaban, and given a life sentence for his crimes." He leaned back and looked at Harry, before saying "The story I have just told you is a load of rubbish. Here, is the truth: The night before the attack on the Potters, Sirius stopped being Secret Keeper. That duty passed to Pettigrew. Can you see now? Can you see the truth?" Harry just nodded, looking shocked "Yes, an innocent man, locked in Azkaban for crimes he did not commit. Luckily, we caught a break."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?" "Well, y'see Harry, last night while you were sleeping, I broke into Gryffindor Common Room. Yes, yes I know, I know. But the _point _is that I discovered that Scabbers, you remember, Ron's rat? Yes, that very rat is in fact an animagus, by the name of Peter Pettigrew." Sam smiled at Harry. "We've got him Harry. We have the traitor. I gave him to Dumbledore, and he just needs us to go with him to the Ministry to _reinforce _the case. It will not be a simple task. But more importantly: Do you want to do it?" Harry practically exploded.

"Are you suggesting that I wouldn't want to get my godfather out of the prison he shouldn't even be in!?" Sam shook his head "Not at all, I'm simply reminding you that nothing will ever be the same again for you if you decide to do this. You will have a family who loves you, a place to truly call home…are you ready for this? Okay, okay, don't look at me like that, I'll write back to Dumbledore and tell him we're ready when we're needed, just calm down. Now then, _detur nobis audivit!" _With the counter spell for the speech obscuring spell cast, other people in the room could hear them again. "So Harry, shall we continue?" "Sure. But Sam…one more thing." "Yes…" "Back in potions, I don't know how I knew the answers to Snape's questions. I don't know them now, I just, knew them at the time…" he trailed off. Sam was feeling open today, so he owned up.

"You knew them because I planted them in your mind, Harry. That entire lesson I was guarding your mind with an art called Occlumency…and helping you out along the way, I might add."

"Sam, I'm not entirely comfortable with you poking around in my head." "That's understandable" sighed Sam, "But you will need these skills yourself eventually, Harry." Harry nodded "I know. So I want you to teach me." Sam cocked an eyebrow "Really...well, I can try. I should warn I'm not exactly a teacher. Obviously. I'll start on you at the end of this year, when you and Sirius are settled. And maybe, maybe I could teach you some other useful things too. Now, I do believe it's your move, Harry." The pair smiled at each other, then continued their game. But Sam's stomach was a pit of uncertainty. The die was cast, but was it loaded?


	5. Irritation and Griffiths Family History

Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

* * *

Chapter 4: Irritation and the Griffiths Family History

"So what you're _saying,_ Professor, is that the Ministry refuses to release Sirius on the grounds that A) The evidence was acquired illegally and that B) the political ramifications would be too great?" Sam spoke softly, but rather menacingly. He was _not _pleased.

"That is precisely correct Sam. And since we were unable to produce evidence that Sirius never received a trial, the Minister refused to give him one, perfectly legally, I might add."

Sam didn't answer, just throwing his arms in the air in exasperation and looking around the room. Sam, Dumbledore and Harry were seated in Dumbledore's Office, and Dumbledore and Harry were recounting the events of the meeting with the Minister to him. As far as Sam could tell, the Minister had been his typical political self, choosing to leave an injustice there instead of facing political scrutiny, covering himself with absurd and impossible to prove arguments. And yet, they couldn't do anything, as the Minister had oversight on such matters, and nothing short of a change in government would change _this _Minister's mind on the matter.

Harry clearly wasn't taking the news well. He was depressed. Very depressed, Sam could tell, but Harry was doing a good job of hiding it. "So, are we sunk yet?" he asked glumly. Fortunately, Sam was quite certain that they were far from sunk. So, he turned back to Dumbledore. "I don't think so. Professor? What are our options?" Dumbledore sighed.

"The only thing we can aim for is getting Sirius a fair trial. Sadly, this will involve proving that he never got one in the first place. Such information is, obviously, not available to the general public, and now that the Minister is on to us, it is likely he has increased security still further, making the files nigh-impossible for outsiders to get their hands on them." Sam grimaced. There _was _a very clear way to acquire such information, but he was unwilling to suggest it in case it got them into even more trouble.

"Well…Professor, there is a way to get that information. But you're not going to like it." Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "Are you proposing, that I condone an illegal attempt by one of my students to break into the Ministry of Magic, access classified files of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, steal certain files, and then use them as evidence to persuade the Minister for Magic to give mass murderer Sirius Black a fair trial?" Sam just stared at Dumbledore, his eyes blank. "Of course not Professor. That would be terrible…but there is a difference between condoning, and turning a blind eye, is there not?"

Dumbledore was sceptical, understandably so. "Even if I agreed, how do you propose you get in and move around undetected? You are yet young, and inexperienced. Are you sure you have the skills, or knowledge for this?" Sam grinned. "Oh, I have ways, Professor. Just leave it in my hands." Dumbledore looked disbelieving "Sam, are you _absolutely sure _about doing this?" Sam just sighed, and nodded firmly. "Very well then. Begin your preparations."

* * *

"So, Sam, what exactly are you going to use to get into the Ministry of Magic?" Harry and Sam were in the Ravenclaw dormitory, and Sam was digging through his trunk, trying to find the metal box he had received at the same time as his trunk just over a week ago. The contents of that box would surely be helpful in his mission. Strictly speaking, he needed no help. But he did need to leave enough evidence to persuade people the break in had nothing to do with Dumbledore, which meant leaving behind as many ancient and powerful magical items as remotely possible. Such items were inside the box. The alternative was not being caught, of course, but you gotta have a contingency plan.

Sam finally found the box, but froze for a moment when he saw the blood red eye in the hourglass staring out at him. He shook it off. No time to worry about that now. He knew Harry would try and get a look at the box, and indeed he could hear feet moving across the floor already. He turned his head to look at Harry and just said "Not today, Harry." Harry wasn't pleased, but stopped his attempts nonetheless. "You do, however, get to see the contents of this box." Sam turned his head back to the box, pulling out a magnificent of Magical Combat Armour, of the kind used by the upper echelons of the DMLE. It was crafted from specially reinforced and enchanted iron, and given a layer of onyx for decorative purposes. And to prevent the iron from interfering with any magic going on in the area, of course.

Harry let out a slow breath when he saw it "What _is _that?" Sam laughed "This, Harry, is Magical Combat Armour. Very useful, also, it's used by the DMLE, and will provide the first line of my cover if I'm caught."

Harry asked a question which had the appearance of having bugged him for a while "Sam, where do you get this stuff, and how do you know…everything you and Dumbledore have talked about?"

Sam paused. There were a few secrets there. "Well, Harry, you'll learn the answer to the second question this summer, if all goes to plan. As for the first question, well, it's quite complicated." Sam stopped getting various potions of the useful variety out of the box and gestured for Harry to sit down on his bed. Sam sat down across from him, next to his trunk.

"You know how I said I was muggleborn?" Harry nodded "Well, that's technically true. My parents are both muggles, but that doesn't mean my family have always been muggles."

"I don't know when the family history began, but it is most likely they were minor Roman aristocrats who took an estate in North-western France when the Romans invaded. Like I said, they were minor, and had little to do with the workings of Roman society. It also meant that, years down the line, a young man named Ostorius Scapula would leap at the chance to join the Roman Fourteenth Legion."

"They campaigned for a time in Germany, where Ostorius became leader of the XIVth, after leading a victory against the Chatti Tribe near Mainz. Magic was well known of in the Roman world, and Ostorius's display of strength impressed Emperor Caligula enough that he got the promotion."

"After that, he led the XIVth through Emperor Claudius's campaigns in Britain, which is how the family established itself in Britain. When the Romans left in 409 CE, Ostorius's descendants remained. The next real event involving my family was the Battle of Hastings, 1066 CE. A man named Abrecan is listed in the family records as being one of King Harold Godwinson's captains, the man who rallied the King's Housecarls and stopped the shield wall defending the King from breaking. He was killed, leaving behind a widow and a young son."

"From there the family just…survived. We had people serving in the army of Henry V, and one wizard served alongside Henry Tudor at the Battle of Bosworth, leading to the Tudor period. We, naturally, ended up changing religion twenty times, Catholic to Protestant, Catholic to Protestant. We didn't do a great deal after Bosworth, although one was lost on the _Mary Rose,_ Henry VIII's flagship, and another was lost at the Battle of Flodden, fighting the Scots."

"Next we hear anything; it's the Stuart era, with our people fighting in wars with France and Spain. Then, when the Civil War broke out, a man named Wilbur Griffiths became one of Oliver Cromwell's best men. The two men parted ways when Griffiths refused to participate in the atrocities in Ireland, and the family suffered for it under the Interregnum. We would never recover the same level of liquid wealth we had before the Civil War."

"Nothing further was heard until the Industrial Revolution; none of our family went to the U.S, so we had nothing to do with the Revolution there. But our involvement in the Industrial Revolution was critical: the man who invented the Spinning Jenny, which arguably kickstarted cotton production in Britain was James Hargreaves, wizard and offshoot of the Griffiths family."

"Our final appearance in history is the Battle of Waterloo. The man who commanded the 2nd Coldstream Guards was one Colonel Arthur Griffiths. He defended the château of Hougoumont from Napoleon's forces. He was killed in the process, and as he had no children it was believed the Griffiths line was ended."

"It was not so. You see, Harry, the good Colonel had had an illegitimate son who turned out to be a squib. A squib" added Sam, seeing Harry's confusion at this term "is a person of magical descent who has no magical talent. He was forgotten about, and I am the first Griffiths since then to have been admitted to Hogwarts. The goblins at Gringotts realised my heritage and opened the vault to me. These artefacts were given to me as a gift from that vault. I didn't think they would come in handy." Sam was finished. The false history was a bit of a wild tale, but clearly enough to be believed by Harry. So he asked another question. "That's a lot to be taken in Sam…one last question, how could you possibly be able to get into the DMLE?" Sam sighed.

"All will be explained, Harry, this summer when you're living with Sirius, I swear I'll explain everything. Until then, _please _just trust me. Ok?" Sam asked, practically pleading. Harry was visibly not happy, but relented, thankfully. Sam got up again and started rummaging around in his trunk again, looking for the last few things he would need. When he had everything, he placed the items he had taken in the box and sealed it. Sam was just about to shut his trunk before he noticed a small paperback book lying at the top of the various things piled up in his trunk.

He picked it up and turned to Harry. "Hey, Harry, I think you could use this." He tossed the book over to Harry, who caught it and looked at the cover "_Occlumency and Legilimency: Mind Magic_? Sam, I thought you said you were teaching me over the summer, not that I'm complaining or anything." Sam nodded. "I am teaching you over the summer, but I want you to use this book in your free time to build up a basic understanding of the skills involved, ok?" Harry nodded vigorously "Excellent, now, I need to go to Dumbledore, Harry. I might be gone for a couple of days." Harry said "I know, it's fine, good luck, and Sam…thanks for doing this."

Sam chuckled "Don't worry Harry," he said as he walked to the door "I have just as much reason to want Sirius free as you do." With that, he left the Ravenclaw dormitory, and Harry with his thoughts.

* * *

"Well Sam, I assume you are prepared?" Asked Albus Dumbledore apprehensively. "Yes, Professor, everything is in place." "The so be it" sighed Dumbledore "I will floo you into the Ministry, from there you are on your own, understood?" "Perfectly, Sir." "Then let us be gone."

Dumbledore walked over to the fireplace in his office and beckoned Sam over. He picked up a pot of Floo Powder from the mantelpiece, and cast it into the fire along with a calm, train station like "Ministry of Magic." Sam glanced at Dumbledore, who pointed at the fire. Sam nodded, and stepped into the fire. He was engulfed by the flames and dragged down as if being dragged to the burning fires of Hell itself.

Flooing, Sam had decided many years ago, was an overall unpleasant experience. It involved a lot of twisting and turning, and the occasional bash of the head or scrape of the elbow. Getting out of the damn thing wasn't pleasant either, and almost impossible to do well.

Sam did not do well, tumbling onto the cold, black, stone floor of the Atrium in a rather painful manner, severely messing up the suit Sam was wearing for the occasion. Fortunately, it was late, so there was nobody in the Atrium. Sam glanced up to collect himself and got up, before feeling violently ill.

It was that _bloody statue._


	6. Trust me, Nympha-OW!

Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

* * *

Chapter 5: "Trust me, Nympha-Ow!"

Sam despised that statue. The horrific edifice of a centaur, house elf and a goblin staring at a witch and wizard with respect and awe. Firstly, no centaur or goblin would ever look up to a magic user with that level of awe, and most house elves only did it under torture. The arrogance displayed there emphasised the fact that Wizarding Britain had been locked in the Dark Ages by the Statute of Secrecy.

The inherent problem was that locking themselves away from Muggles had the effect , particularly in the Mediaeval Age, when the aristocracy had been supreme anyway, led to the locking out of muggleborns from a lack of trust. This had, in turn, created a number of supreme, controlling families, such as the Malfoy's, Potter's and the Bones's. Evidence being: the fact that a bill to hunt Muggles openly had at one point been considered by the Wizengamot.

Ah yes, the complicated relationship between Muggles and Magicals. It was difficult to understand the fact that many of the more Pureblood supremacist families failed to recognise the genius and usefulness of much Muggle technology. Take the telephone. Near instant, almost clear communication to anywhere in the world with a phone line-and it doesn't involve sticking your head in the fireplace. That alone invalidates the naysayers. That is not to say that magic doesn't have its uses, it's just that neither is superior, and each has flaws.

Sam shook his head. He was here to do a job, and he did have a time limit, albeit quite a long one. Sam reckoned he could stay hidden in the Ministry for three days tops-he would be a wreck afterwards from the exertion though. It would be preferable that was avoided however, so he had best get this done tonight. Sam got up and brushed himself off, and started walking down the Atrium, looking for a suitable place to set up. Sam briefly wondered if there were toilets in the Ministry, since they were the perfect place to set up the equipment for a break-in, when he spotted one.

Sam supposed it was logical; Ministry employees were still human, weren't they? Well, most of them were. Sam moved quickly towards the bathroom, praying that nobody was in the rooms looking down on the Atrium, which would be a typical little disaster. Fortunately there was nobody in the rooms, at least nobody who had panicked and started firing spells off. There was no use being paranoid; he would assume the best for now.

The bathroom itself followed universal laws of British bathroom design, which meant cubicles. A perfect place to get in his gear. As Sam walked towards one of the cubicles, however, he looked at himself in the mirror and suddenly realised he looked like an eleven year old, admittedly looking a little older and taller, having the resemblance of roughly a thirteen year old.

This would not do. Nobody would be fooled by the sight Sam was presenting at present, even dressed in the armour of a Hit Wizard. Sam had a solution; it just wouldn't be overly pleasant. He set the metal case down on the ground and let out a deep breath. Then, he began to _change_.

All Sam was doing here was reverting to the form he had held the night at Kings Cross before boarding the Hogwarts Express. It wasn't an enchantment or Metamorphmagus magic, it was more like an animagus form, but instead of an animal, he could become a younger version of himself. It was simply another of the gifts his organisation had given him for this mission. No good deed would go unpunished, Sam thought.

Sam was in considerable discomfort throughout the process, as it involved the manipulation of bones, muscles and internal organs, which was an invariably painful experience. Finally it ended, and Sam glanced back up at the mirror when he realised he toppled into the position of being on his knees in an almost religious stance. Sam climbed to his feet and observed himself.

Staring back out of the mirror was the face of a twenty one year old man in at least half decent physical condition. He had sapphire blue eyes with short black hair and a three day beard which covered the bottom half of his face. He also appeared considerably further up the mirror, having grown nearly ten inches, now standing at 6ft 2". Sam was pleased with the result; he now bore at least a passing resemblance to somebody who could conceivably be a Hit Wizard.

Which led him onto his next goal: finally get his equipment out! Turning back to the row of cubicles, he opened the door to one and set the briefcase down on the closed lid of the toilet. He flicked open the locks and lifted the lid.

The only thing visible in the box at present was the Combat Armour. This Sam removed from its box and then closed the box again. Sam looked at the Armour for a moment. It was truly a magnificent, a solid black suit of armour covering feet, hands, legs, arms and chest. Face protection was not provided. Sam slipped into the Magical Combat Armour and tested his limbs in it. Since everything seemed to be in working order, Sam opened the box again and looked at the contents. There wasn't, truth be told, much he actually needed. Most of it was for show, the potions in particular falling into this category. All he really need was the Combat Armour and his wand. Even the wand he barely needed what with the Vis magic.

Reckoning he had everything he needed, Sam summoned energy with _Vis _and applied his hand to the once more sealed box. With a quick mutter of "_Horreat in hoc!_" the box began to shrink. When it reached a size where he could fit it in the limited pockets of his Armour he murmured "_Subsisto._" And the magic stopped, the energy returning to Sam's arm and dissipating. Sam slipped the now shrunken box into his tiny pockets and exited the bathroom. Looking around the Atrium for some sort of map, Sam acknowledged he was going to do this the hard way, i.e. searching each individual floor. Sam groaned in frustration and headed for the elevator.

It was only once he was inside the golden mesh and heading for the first floor that he realised each button on the elevator had the departments on that floor clearly labelled. Well, that was embarrassing. Looking for the DMLE, Sam found it was on floor four, and set the elevator heading in that direction.

* * *

"Floor Four: Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Office" droned the automatic voice of the elevator announcer. Sam stumbled out of the elevator, having forgotten the oddly three dimensional nature of Ministry elevator movement, and paying the price for it. Sam grimaced and tried to remember what he knew about the DMLE's layout. He realised his knowledge got him as far as 'It's big'. Well, searching the right floor was better than searching every floor. There was only one corridor leading off from the elevator, so Sam and his unsettled stomach set off along there.

There were doors lining the corridor, but Sam was ignoring anything without a plaque detailing what the room was, and he was ignoring most of the rooms with a plaque anyway, as they were of no interest. At the end of the corridor there was a divergence, an irritating occurrence, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he started out along the left hand side. He did hear one or two people arguing in some of the rooms, about what Sam neither knew nor particularly cared. He followed the corridor a little more, before coming to yet another divergence. Sam decided to follow a particular direction until it was exhausted, then return to follow the other directions.

It didn't take long for the fact that the only sound in these long, winding hallways of black polished stone was the noise of his feet hitting the ground to unnerve him slightly. He started glancing wildly at random doors, turning on his heels only to find no one there, even though he could have sworn he'd heard something.

He continued in this rapidly deteriorating state until he reached what he concluded was the end of this left hand side path he had been following. He stumbled up to the plaque next to the door and tried to get his vision to clear long enough to read it. He almost burst out laughing when he finally managed to read the dark engravings in the golden plaque. _Ministry of Magic Records Archives_. The nerves lifted from Sam as he tested the lock on the door to his goal. To his great surprise the doorknob turned and the door swung open.

Sam peered into the doorway and saw endless bookshelves stretching off into the distance in dim lighting. Sam had found his destination, now he needed to find his quarry. Judging by the bookshelves, that may prove the more difficult task. Sam glanced at one of the windows, where the enchantments showed it was still dark outside, but a faint streak of light was slowly starting to etch into the night. Well, onwards then.

Sam stepped through the door and began to walk towards the bookshelves when an oddly familiar, tired yet cheerful voice said "Wotcher. You looking for something?" Sam's blood froze. Shit. He turned slowly and his suspicions were confirmed. This complicated things.

Nymphadora Tonks sat on a wooden chair behind an untidy desk. She had clearly been down here all night, presumably on guard duty. Wait. Wasn't she just an Auror trainee in 1991? What was she doing single handedly guarding the Ministry Records Office? Sam suddenly realised this was the bit where he said something in reply. Adopting a stiff, authoritative tone, he tried to find a way to make this whole affair easy.

"Yes. A request recently came through for a retrial for Sirius Black" Sam was impressed she didn't even flinch at the mention of her cousin. Then again, he didn't know how much Andromeda had told her daughter. "I have been asked to retrieve the case file and see if there is any justification in a retrial, as there was an indication fresh evidence would be provided." Tonks tilted her head and nodded, before dashing his hopes of getting the file without knocking out any Ministry officials.

"Sure. You're going to need Ministry identification to get at those papers though." Sam's breath caught. Damn, how did he get out of this one without any violence? Tonks was holding out her hand, waiting for the non-existent identification, and Sam would be amazed if there was no protective enchantments against anyone without some form of clearance.

"Surely you wouldn't hold up a case such as this over mere identification papers?" He questioned weakly. Tonks _really _didn't buy it. Her eyes narrowed, her pink hair turned a fiery red and she reached her previously outstretched hand for her wand. Which she held against his chest before suggesting he come quietly. "Yeah, no, sorry about this." He smacked her wand out of her hand with his left arm before dropping to his knees and using his right arm to topple her to the ground. It was not a pretty fall.

Trainee Auror she might be, but smacking your head onto a polished stone ground was a fairly universal effect no matter what your training was. She was out cold. Sam turned to head into the archives before his conscience decided to toy with him. He turned back towards Tonks with a sigh and made it absolutely clear she had been attacked as opposed to falling asleep on the job; it would not do for her to lose her job just because he had failed to foresee the presence of a guard. He didn't actually hurt her; naturally, he just made it appear very much like that was the case.

_Then _he turned into the archives and began to search.

* * *

Nearly three hours later, he didn't have anything. See, the Ministry had almost got alphabetical order correct, the rows and columns did indeed go into a order, making it easy to find 'B'. The problem lay in the fact that this alphabetical order didn't extend to the contents of the rows themselves, so the files on Black, Walburga were right next to the files on Black, Cygnus. Having nearly two and a half thousand years of history to cover didn't help a great deal either.

Sam glanced at one of the few windows that let light into the benched area in between blocks of shelves and discerned with worry that it was about six o'clock. He had three hours, and less if Tonks woke up and went looking for someone. He didn't want to consider the possibility that she might actually be foolish enough to go after someone who had just annihilated her in a straight up fight, but was forced to accept this fact when he heard the streaking noise of an _Attono _or Stunning spell coming at him. He turned his head towards the streaking noise, and his head was promptly engulfed in red light.

Sam went flying backwards through the air, crashing into one of the benches which was crushed utterly from the sheer force of Tonks's spell. Wow, she must _really _despise him at the moment to be able to produce that effect from _Attono_.

Sam clambered to his feet, rolling and leaping to dodge the various streaks of light that came flying at him, coughing out sawdust as he went. When he did finally get up, he reached for his wand, only to discover it wasn't there. He looked up to see Tonks advancing towards him, her wand in one hand, his in the other. She held it up triumphantly. "Give up. You haven't got a wand and there's nowhere to run." Sam raised an eyebrow "You know that _isn't _strictly true." With that Sam pelted towards another column of bookshelves, planning on losing her and knocking her out again when he got the chance.

Tonks was back to firing spells after him as he ran, watching many _Attono_'s shoot past along with a _Detraham Eos_, which would have been game over if it had hit him, and a _Conglacior_, which would have given him a nice, refreshing bout of frostbite to go with a sentence in Azkaban. Fortunately, nothing made contact thanks mainly to a series of insane bits of leaping about, and Sam managed to reach the safety of the bookshelves.

Sam ran down the gap between shelves, before suddenly turning right and then left again in the confusing and twisting maze of passageways that ensured as much ground as possible could be covered with the obscure tax affairs of the rich and famous, or more specifically the bits of paper authorising the obscure tax affairs.

After a great many twists and turns Sam stopped to catch his breath. He reckoned he had managed to lose Tonks. Now, he needed to prepare. He summoned combat magic with _Vis Hostilis _and cursed as he realised the red glow was certain to give away his location, but there was no option; there was no alternative to _Vis Hostilis _without the use of a wand, which he didn't have. So he would have to go along with it. He did have a spell to go with the situation, but it was a long one and he was a little apprehensive about using such a complex spell against someone whose life would soon frequently depend on being able to draw their wand quickly enough.

Sam was beginning to doubt his ability to hold his ground in a duel with Tonks. If he had his wand he'd be fine. _Vis _magic was great for non-combat and infiltration roles as it was more powerful and more straightforward to cast, yet it was poor for combat as it was almost always a long incantation and it was _all _verbal, so your opponent knew when you were doing something. She, on the other hand, would be able to come out of absolutely nowhere with deadly, silent and likely simple spells. Running into the bookshelves may have proven a mistake.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, before deciding to get moving. He cast _Abscondere Meípso _to hide himself and used _Silentium Meum Moto _to obscure his footsteps before following the passage he was currently in away from the direction he had come in. The only sound for the next few moments were his own breaths. The first crisis was when he approached a crossroads in the paths and Tonks appeared out of thin air from around the corner. She seemed to have obscured her footsteps but not herself. Her first mistake.

Seeing as how he was invisible, Tonks failed to notice him and continued along the library pathways along the way he had planned on going. That was an even better reason to go that way. Sam was in an excellent position now. He could have simply knocked Tonks out and gotten what he came for. But that was not what his conscience, for the second time that day in control of him, decided he would do. This was an unexpected consequence of suddenly deciding to adopt some form of moral code, he supposed. Gritting his teeth in frustration at his inability to get on with it, he summoned _Vis _after dropping back so as not to be heard by Tonks, before deciding to get a height advantage.

He murmured _"Leva __Meípso" _and the air around his feet contorted and shoved him upwards with the upward movements his hand made, before putting his hand behind his back and drifting to land on top of the bookshelf. When he was certain of his footing he stretched his arms out on both sides and splayed his fingers to release the energy. Sam estimated that about a tonne of dust tumbled off the sides of the shelves when there was a second outward gust of wind at the end of the spell.

Sam took a stroll along the top of the bookshelves, glancing off the side to find Tonks as she hunted him down, not realising that her target was lurking directly above her. He was not going to hurt her though-yet. He would give in and try the diplomatic approach for once.

"Tonks." Sam called out to give the impression he was far off. "That's your name, isn't it? Nymphadora Tonks?" Tonks's hair become, if anything, even more red. "What's it to you, eh?" She demanded, in a voice which seemed to be breaking under the strain of being contorted into anger. "Do you have no idea _why _I want the Sirius Black file? Do you have no idea of the truth? You guard this place for God's sake! Did your mother really never discover the truth? The solid, disgusting _fact _is that Sirius Black, your mother's cousin, was never given a trial by the same Ministry that you now serve? I wasn't kidding when I said there was evidence, but it wasn't to present to a retrial! It was for the first trial-after eleven years-of Sirius Black." Sam kept his voice calm, with only a couple of blips when the Ministry got involved.

Sam could see from his vantage point that Tonks was very visibly shaken by this information. She wasn't convinced though. "And how do you know this? How do I know you aren't manipulating me?" Sam chuckled darkly. "Well, good. You aren't foolish enough to believe me right off. You have two options: you can take the fact that I wrung the information half an hour before he was taken to Azkaban from him with Veritaserum, or you can go and check his file yourself. Which will it be?"

Tonks breathed in sharply. There was a short pause before she answered. "Alright. Meet me by the Black archive. I know where it is. If you're lying" she warned "I will take you down." Sam snickered "Alright then. See you there." Sam started jogging along the bookshelves, taking full advantage of the fact that his movement was muffled by _Silentium Meum Moto_ to move as quickly as he wanted.

Back at the 'B' row, Sam noticed Tonks hadn't arrived yet, so settled in to wait for a while. It wasn't worth the energy of sitting down, as it emerged, to his great irritation, that Tonks was almost as quick as him-and she was on the ground. She glanced around, clearly expecting Sam to be visible. "Hey, you there?" She called out to the seemingly empty air. "Yes. I assure you, I'm here. I'll take a book off the shelf." Sam turned around and plucked a book off the shelf at random. "There. Convinced?" Sam asked as he turned around.

She nodded. She turned to another section of the shelf and picked a _very, very _slim book off the shelf, and began flicking through it. "Nothing, nothing…still nothing…wait. Note from Bartemius Crouch Senior: 'Since Black's guilt has been established beyond all doubt, he will not be receiving a trial for his actions'." Tonks paused. Then sighed and shook her head. "I guess you were right."

Sam decided it was probably safe to reveal himself _"Revelare_ _Meípso." _The energy hiding him dissipated. "Yes. Now you see the truth. I need that book, or at least the page with a note on it." Tonks just nodded, and handed over the book. "Thank you, Tonks. You're doing the right thing here." Tonks let out a small smile "I better be, or you get the blame." Sam laughed. "Sorry about the table. And about taking you down quite so easily." Tonks scowled.

"Just get Sirius out of Azkaban." Sam grinned "Will do. You and Andromeda have a lot of catching up to do. As do a few other people." He peered at Tonks "This stays private until Sirius is free, right?" "Of course." "Good. Just trust me, Nympha-OW!" Sam glared at Tonks, who had just smacked him very hard indeed for the heinous crime of almost saying her first name. "Never call me that. Now good luck and get out of here, people will be showing up soon." Sam nodded. "Goodbye, Tonks."

* * *

AN: Well there we go. A rather rapid start to the fic, as has been pointed out to me by The Lazy Princess, but hopefully things should slow down now-remember, its still the first week of Hogwarts and THIS chapter happened. Apart from that, I have already mentioned that Tonks will be a significant character in the series. I shall even go so far as to say that by the end of fifth year, she will be...crucial, in maintaining Harry's sanity. (Yes, that's a spoiler.) Oh, and no new chapters over the weekend as I'm in London over Friday and Saturday, don't know if I can get anything done Sunday. I think that's all, thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and see ya next time!


	7. Ignavi Draco and a Cerberus

Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

* * *

Chapter 6: Ignavi Draco and a Cerberus

Sam strolled into Dumbledore's office in his student form brandishing the Ministry's files on Sirius with a not unreasonable degree of triumph. He had been gone less than a day, had avoided the murder of Ministry employees, met up with a future ally who had eventually worked with him, and had what he went in for. In his book, that counted as a major triumph. So, naturally, it was raining at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore was seated at his desk, tinkering with an object of some kind that Sam most likely didn't understand. When Sam burst into the office, he looked up sharply, before his face broke into a smile and asked "Ah, Sam, how did it go?"

"Well, Professor, I got them. The proof is in there, don't ask how I got it, just _use _it!" Sam placed the small book down on Dumbledore's desk, the desk of a man who couldn't decide if he was disapproving, approving or shocked. Or all three.

"Sam, how on Earth did you…I guess you aren't going to tell me." Dumbledore eyed him with his probably illegal twinkling eyes, but seemed to draw no conclusions. Didn't stop Sam from feeling like he'd been thoroughly searched though. "Very well. I suppose it matters little for now. You're right, this must be used quickly. I will resolve the situation from here, and you should rejoin your fellow students, or the rumour mill will start turning in your direction." Sam nodded and turned to leave, but Dumbledore called out "Sam…thank you." Sam turned his head and nodded sharply, and left.

"Hey there Harry. How are things?" Sam called out as he approached the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall. He had the pleasure of realising he had returned just in time for lunch, the perfect opportunity to very subtly rejoin the school-better than walking in in the middle of Potions, anyway. Uh, yeah, no. Sam was, extraordinarily, wrong on that one. Every head on the Ravenclaw table swivelled in his direction the moment he walked into the Hall. Sam ignored them, and marched over to Harry, who was sitting alone.

Harry glanced up at Sam, and his expression transformed from one of slight boredom to an almost frenzied excitement. Sam sat down opposite Harry, faintly aware of the eyes boring into his head, smiling until Harry began to ask about the Ministry "So, Sam, what happene-" Sam started glaring daggers at Harry. He might have been whispering, but it would not do for that seventh year near Harry, or the sixth year Gryffindor behind Sam to hear them talking about such matters "Not here-later!" Hissed Sam, his eyes furious. Harry's eyes widened, before he glanced around and nodded, before launching a completely successful and entirely convincing change of subject.

"So Sam, Hagrid wrote while you were visiting your ill parents" Sam winced, this was appallingly bad "he asked if we wanted to visit today." Sam nodded "I'd like that. When is it?" Harry produced a piece of parchment from his robes pockets. "After last lesson." Sam noted the three pairs of eyes that had been observing them turned away after this.

"Great! Um…what _is _last lesson?" Sam asked, realising he didn't know the day. It had been a Thursday when he left for the Ministry…so was it a Friday or a Saturday? Probably Friday…in which case it was… "Er, Sam, it's Charms" said Harry, who had done the simple thing and gotten out his timetable. "Ah, excellent." Sam noticed the glum expression on Harry's face and sighed "It's with the Slytherin's isn't it?" Harry nodded and Sam muttered "Lovely."

* * *

Two hours later, Sam and Harry dragged themselves to Professor Flitwick's classroom on the Third Floor. Sam quickly noted the positions of the main Slytherin's in the classroom. Draco was sitting at a desk in the top right hand corner of the room, next to a boy Sam suspected of being Blaise Zabini, with Crabbe and Goyle sitting at the desk behind them. With this in mind, Sam steered Harry over to a vacant desk in the bottom left corner of the room, hoping to avoid any issues with the other House, as unlikely as that was.

"Good afternoon class, now settle down please!" called the squeaky voice of Professor Filius Flitwick. Sam glanced towards the front desk and noticed that the head of the short teacher had just emerged from over the rim of the desk. Sam elbowed Harry to shut him up, and the rest of the class followed suit at a reasonable speed. "Thank you. Now then, last lesson, we continued to work on the correct way of casting…"

* * *

Sam strolled out of the Charms lesson, reasonably pleased with the fact that everything had gone all right. Draco seemed to have stopped being much of a problem. He hadn't done a damn thing to irritate Sam during the Charms lesson, and now he and Harry were free to head down to Hagrid's. It probably meant sacrificing dinner in favour of Hagrid's fudge, but that was a small sacrifice.

At the end of the Charms corridor there was a stream of First Year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students on their way to the Great Hall for dinner. Sam and Harry joined this stream as a way to get to the Entrance Hall. Sam saw Ron and Hermione walking further down the stairs, but when he looked around him he noticed that Neville was nowhere to be seen. Sam frowned as he and Harry made their way down the stairs, where could Neville be?

The suspicion in his mind was confirmed when Harry whispered to him "Sam, I don't want to worry you, but Malfoy's just headed down a side corridor" Sam turned to look at Harry. "Oh hell. Where?" Harry beckoned him and they turned and started up the stairs, pushing through the crowd of students as they did so, causing more than one shout of protest, all of which were ignored.

The duo dashed back down the Charms Corridor towards the side corridor that Harry had mentioned. Sam motioned at Harry to slow down and he silenced both of their movements. "Silencing" Sam mouthed at Harry when he realised he hadn't told Harry what he was planning to do. Sam strolled up to the corner where the Charms corridor connected to this other corridor and glanced around it. Sam couldn't see anything but a T-Junction in the corridor.

Sam drew his wand and indicated that Harry should do the same. Sam was entirely confident Harry would be of no use whatsoever, considering that no real offensive magic was taught…at any point in the Hogwarts curriculum, actually. Well, Sam would have to remedy that, but later. For now, they had a rogue Draco to catch.

Sam jogged over to the left hand corner of the T-Junction, glancing up the right hand corridor, which emerged to be naught but a small archway with a magnificent suit of armour in it. Then he heard snatches of the mocking voice of Draco Malfoy from somewhere around the corner of where Sam was standing "Such a _coward _Longbottom…can't even open a door…go on, do it!"

Sam and Harry leapt around the corridor, and simultaneously knew exactly where they were. The corridor was long, and much less well cleaned then the rest of the castle. There was only one door, embedded in the wall at the end of the corridor, solid and heavy with a large iron lock. The whole corridor had an air of gloom over it, which was not helped by the fact the only source of light was a pair of enchanted braziers on either side of the door. Suits of armour lined the corridor, giving every impression they could spring to life at a moment's notice, with the firelight gleaming off the polished metal. In other words: the forbidden Third Floor corridor with the Philosopher's Stone.

Standing in the corridor were Draco and Neville. Draco had his wand drawn and was pointing it at Neville, who was clearly terrified, but more importantly had his hand on the doorknob. Fluffy the Cerberus was on the other side of that door, and Sam was entirely certain that Neville's mind would not take the simultaneous emotional strain of being threatened and then confronting a giant three headed dog.

So Sam intervened. He was well aware that Harry was going to wait for him to do something, so he called out in a tone as close to authoritative as he could manage with an eleven year olds voicebox-talking with Tonks had made him realise the annoying aspects of being younger, such as a voice which was more like a rubber ducks then a humans. "Hey, Ignavi Draco, what do you think you're doing" _That _got his attention.

The Malfoy heir swung around with his wand raised, his face a mask of childlike aggression, which changed to a bizarre mixture of that and fear when he noticed that he was outnumbered. "Yes, Griffiths, Potter? What do you want?" Sam shrugged noncommittally "Oh, just wondered what you were up to. Unless I'm _very _much mistaken, that is the door the Headmaster specifically told us all not to go through at the start of the week. Also, you appear to be using another student to get through the door. Yeah, it doesn't look good for you, Ignavi Draco, which is what I shall call you from now on."

Draco snarled, but said nothing. Neville had taken his hand off the doorknob and had to Sam's utter astonishment drawn his wand. Well, that worked. Now he just needed Draco to be distracted. "So, Ignavi Draco," Neville had raised his wand at Draco's back, with Draco still staring, angry and fearful, at Sam and Harry. Sam had lowered his wand, but Harry had not followed suit "what shall I do now? So many options. I could take you down, I could report you to the Headmaster, or I could even join you! So, which shall it be?" Neville had suddenly found he didn't know an appropriate spell, so Sam just sighed and called "Just hit him with it, dammit!" Draco swung round again, just as Neville was about to smack him with his wand, while Sam raised his own and shouted _"Torpesco!"_ An ugly bolt of puce light shot out of Sam's wand and struck Draco square in the right hand shoulder.

The effect was quite impressive-the puce colour dissolved on impact and spread across Draco's body, freezing whatever it touched, before the entirety of the boy was covered in the sickly shade and he was frozen. It should be added, he was frozen in a rather impressive stance, wand drawn, robes flying, turning around to fight. The only thing spoiling the sight was the fact he still looked like an eleven year old, but you can't have everything in life.

Harry, Sam and Neville were far too busy being impressed with themselves that none of them noticed the short redheaded girl turn round the corner with a look of curiosity which promptly turned to horror. The three boys snapped out of it and swung around when they heard the clatter of a book hitting the stone ground.

"W-w-what's g-going on?" said the young girl quietly, her eyes darting around rapidly, and starting to water. Not surprising really, seeing as how she had just stumbled around three boys doing little except for staring at the frozen statue of Draco Malfoy they had created. This would be scary for a First Year at the best of times.

Sam edged forward slowly, his hands raised, and spoke in a calm voice "Nothing much, it's just that Draco here" Sam indicated the new statue "decided to threaten one of our friends. We look after our friends." Sam watched the effect this had on the girl. It didn't seem to have much of an effect.

"B-but y-y-you attacked him. That's wrong." Sam tilted his head "Tell me, what's your name?" Sam had his suspicions about who this girl was now.

"My n-name is S-Susan, Susan B-Bones." Ah yes, that explained much. Sam peered at the young girl, and was unsurprised he didn't recognise her at first. The girl had medium length hair that leaned closer to actual red then ginger, with piercing amber eyes. She was short, but that might be Sam's rather loose interpretation of the height of an eleven year old, but nonetheless 3'11" seemed a little short.

"Well, Susan, we attacked him because we were looking after a friend. That isn't wrong, is it?" Susan thought about it, looking down at the ground and biting her lip, a perfect look of childlike concentration on her slightly rounded face.

"We-e-e-e-ell…maybe. My aunty told me that attacking people was wrong…but I would look after my friends too!" Her eyes shifted downwards slightly and Sam became instantly suspicious. "Susan…why are you alone? Why aren't your friends here with you?"

Susan, who had slowly been brightening up, suddenly became very sad again "W-w-well, I-I, u-um" Sam grew angry "Say no more, Susan. The three of us understand what it's like to have difficulty with friends." Harry snorted from behind him. Sam just looked at him and he shut up. "Susan, why don't you be friends with us?" Sam looked over his shoulder at Harry and Neville, who both nodded, before looking back to Susan, who had a big, bright smile splitting her face from ear to ear. She nodded emphatically, and Sam smiled back. "We should get out of here, before somebody tries to find us or Malfoy" commented Harry from behind Sam.

"Yes, true, but first-Neville, are you OK? What was Ignavi Draco doing with you?" Neville shrugged, the tears and the fear more or less gone from his face "He wanted to get through this door, but he was too scared to do it himself, so he dragged me up here to do it." Neville hung his head "I'm practically a squib. Malfoy was just able to get me out of the crowd; I couldn't do anything to stop him."

Sam could see he was getting upset- self-confidence would be an issue for a while, until his magic developed- and was about to intervene, but to his internal delight Harry spoke first. "No, Neville, don't get upset about it. Some people's magic develops much later than" How the hell did he know that? "others, and you can't blame yourself if you are one of those people and Malfoy wasn't. OK?" Neville looked up at Harry, smiling and wiping away the lone tear that was running down his face. "Thanks Harry, I'll be OK."

Harry smiled and turned to Sam, who could only be described as approving. "Well, Sam, I think we're done here. Shall we go?" Sam hesitated. "Just one more thing, Harry." Harry raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Sam walked up to the large heavy door, and tried the lock. To his great lack of surprise, the lock was locked. Obviously. Sam glanced back to find three pairs of suspicious eyes and one pair of frozen eyes staring at him.

"What? I just want to find out what's on the other side of this door, is that too much to ask?" Sam exclaimed. "Well, Sam, we'll see. But it's locked, how are you planning on getting through?" This from Neville, who had a point. Sam rifled through the spells he knew in his head and failed to find anything appropriate. But then…

Ah yes, a locked door's locked level was only as high as the quality of the lock itself. If something were to happen to the lock… "I plan on doing this." Sam replied, before standing back and pointing his wand at the lock "_Aerugino!" _The effect was instant: a layer of red rust began to spread over the iron lock, and Sam heard the click as the tumblers within rusted and dissolved, leaving the door totally unlocked for them. Sam watched as the rest of the door handle dissolved, and then simply pushed the door, swinging it open.

Harry, Susan and Neville stepped forward to peer into the room with Sam. At least, they peered at what little could be seen. The room was an abyss of pure darkness, the only visible object in the room being the door. That didn't last for much longer though. This was because out of the darkness there appeared a pair of large round amber orbs, with another space of darkness at their centre. _Eyes._

Sam glanced either side of him. Both sides were empty. Apparently his friends had broken and fled rather quickly. Not that Sam wasn't about to, but he actually knew what he was dealing with, which of course made things slightly less terrifying. Fumbling with his spells, Sam finally settled on an appropriate one. _"Rumpe Tenebrae!" An orb of pure white light shot out of his wand and began dashing around the room, carving away at shadows, which remained gone when the orb moved on, before coming to a stop in the centre of the ceiling. Sam was past caring at that point, though, as the full horror of the room was revealed to him. Dumbledore had really gone to town protecting the Stone._

The room was covered in a much less polished, naturally coloured stone, as if the room had been hewn from the rock itself. There were unlit braziers lining the walls, and a collapsed suit of armour in one corner, lying alongside a pair of ripped and torn portrait frames. Sam winced as he saw that the crucial harp had been utterly smashed, clearly Fluffy had decided such a threat could not be tolerated. Sam liked this dog. At least he would, if half the room was not bathed in a pool of saliva, originating from the monstrosity sitting pretty in the centre of the room.

Sam had seen the original Cerberus which guarded the gates of Hades itself, and came to the conclusion that the beast which had been chosen to guard the Philosophers Stone was the same Cerberus only on steroids. It was _huge, _easily standing at fifteen foot tall, bearing in mind this was a creature which stood on four legs, that's a lot, and stretched somewhere into the back of what Sam now realised was quite a large room. The whole beast was covered in thick onyx-black fur, filthy and greasy from months of neglect, albeit I-can't-clean-you-as-you'll-murder-me-if-I-do neglect. All this didn't really draw Sam's attention in the way the three heads did.

The heads, Sam had to admit, _were _magnificent. At the base of the necks, there were collars-only Hagrid, thought Sam-closely followed by quite a short, stubby neck, which led into the bottom of a head that was not unlike that of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, with a rather long face and a large nose area, with large jaws, filled with yellowing but nevertheless very sharp canines. The smell was horrific, as gallons of sticky saliva oozed out of the Cerberus's mouth.

Sam leapt backward as the central head struck at him as silently and as deadly as a cobra. The sound of teeth smacking against each other was probably one of the more satisfying noises Sam had heard, as he knew the only other thing they would have been biting down on was him. Ah, yes, a lovely thought.

Reaching for the heavy wooden door, Sam pulled on it and slammed it shut, obscuring the mighty hellhound from view and hearing, before raising his wand at the door and murmuring "_Signaveris Hoc!_" The sound of a locking noise emanated through the corridor as the door sealed once more.

Sam suddenly realised he was absolutely exhausted. Actual adrenaline was something he was not used to. He leaned against the door, breathing heavily as his body adjusted to the lack of excitement, and then sliding slowly down to the floor until he was leaning against the door, his heart rate slowly dropping back to normal levels. He looked up, and saw Susan, Neville and Harry peering at him with something akin to concern.

"I…I just…wanted a…look." Muttered Sam, his speech interrupted by the heaviness of his breathing. Harry ignored this, asking "Why on earth is something like that in the castle?" Susan and Neville shrugged, still looking at Sam with concern. "I'm fine…guys. Really. Now, Harry, didn't you say Hagrid took something from that vault that got robbed at Gringotts while you were there?" Harry nodded.

Susan piped up "My aunty said that they're getting nowhere with that investigation. The goblins keep blocking them." Harry raised an eyebrow, and Sam answered the unspoken question "Her aunt is Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE." Harry nodded, and said "Well, if we _really _want to find out what that thing is doing here, we should talk to Hagrid, I guess." He sounded a bit dubious, but Sam agreed.

"He's gamekeeper, he knows about magical creatures and he took that thing out of the vault, so even more reason to visit" Finished Sam brightly, before turning to Susan and Neville. "Either of you two want to come?" They both nodded furiously. "Excellent. This will definitely be fun."

The group turned towards the end of the corridor, Sam hardly believing their luck that Professor Flitwick hadn't heard them. It wasn't like Fluffy had been quiet or anything. Then Susan spoke up "Um, what about the boy?" Sam halted abruptly, sighed, and turned around to look at Draco. He stared at the frozen statue for a few moments, thinking about what to do. Finally he decided to be mean. "Harry, d'you have any parchment on you?" Harry nodded and produced some out of his bag. "Thanks." Sam got out a quill and scribbled on it for a moment, before getting up and pointing his wand at the statue. "_Truso" _With a low scratching noise, the statue of Draco slid over the stone floor before colliding with the wall. When it had finished, Sam walked up to the wall and pinned the note above the statue with "_Agglutino"_.

Sam turned around and said "Excellent. Now, off to Hagrid's!"

* * *

The group hurried across the grounds towards Hagrid's Hut through the biting cold of a September evening. None of them had anything more than their school clothes on, and the rather thin fabric really wasn't enough for the temperatures of a Scottish autumn.

When they arrived at the hut, Sam reckoned it didn't really qualify as a hut; it was more of a slightly naturalist cottage. It was large, at least by regular human standards-Hagrid obviously needed more space due to the half giant in him-and was constructed from an actually quite intelligent manipulation of wood and thatch. Any assessment of it as being 'barbaric' would be quite mistaken.

Harry knocked on the large, seemingly oak wood door. A moment later it swung open, and Hagrid ushered them in. "Hello 'arry, Sam, it's good to see yeh! Who're yeh friends?" Sam introduced Neville and Susan while Hagrid bustled around to start brewing tea. "Well 'arry, how are yeh enjoying 'ogwarts?" asked Hagrid over his shoulder as the four children sat down by the crackling fire which even Sam thought might be just a safety hazard too far.

"It's great, much better than the Dursleys ever were," Sam and Hagrid both scowled at the mention of Harry's relatives "and the magic is very interesting. I can't believe that my parents did all of this." Harry glanced at Sam, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. Harry nodded "Well, you were definitely right about the Slytherin's, Hagrid." Hagrid chuckled "I told yeh, didn't I? Rotten, the whole lot of 'em. Little strange though, a Slytherin having an issue with a Ravenclaw. Speaking of which, congratulations, I was a little shocked, what with you parents having been in Gryffindor, but at least it shows there's something in that head of yours, eh?" The group laughed.

Hagrid turned back towards them with four ceramic mugs and a rather large bowl cradled in his arms, all of which had a light steam floating into the air off them. Hagrid beckoned them over to the table, which they sat at with their backs to the fire. Hagrid gave out the mugs full of scalding hot tea and it emerged that the bowl was really a very large mug for Hagrid to drink out of.

The five of them talked for hours-about Hogwarts, Snape's unexpected attitude to Harry, their family lives-which Sam and Harry both had to brush off-, and Hagrid telling them about some of the things that Harry and Neville's parents had gotten up to. Sam couldn't decide if the two boys looked happy or sad. It was nearing curfew when Hagrid began to suggest that they leave, when Sam brought up the final topic of conversation. "So, Hagrid," asked Sam calmly, "you wouldn't happen to know why there's a giant, three-headed dog in the castle, would you?" Hagrid froze.

"H-how do yeh know about Fluffy?" he blurted out, before sealing his mouth with a look of horror on his face. "You named _that _Fluffy?" muttered Neville to Sam's left. "We stumbled on him." Said Sam innocently "We're just curious; after all, it _is _odd, isn't it, that security should be so high just after you pick up something for Dumbledore from Gringotts? And you're the expert on dangerous creatures here, aren't you?" Sam was going for flattery, but then he realised he had forgotten one key thing: Hagrid was sober.

"Professor Dumbledore warned yeh not to go down that corridor, fer yeh own good. Best if yeh stay out of other people's business, you four. Now, it's getting' late, you best get back to the castle."

* * *

"Well, that went well." Mumbled Sam as they walked back up to the castle, slightly miffed by his abject failure to get any workable information that he could claim he had discovered from Hagrid, and not known about already. "You don't say? What were you thinking, just going all out like that?" Sam glanced at Harry; very clearly displaying he was well aware that he had performed poorly.

"Yeah, well, we'll just have to get our information from elsewhere. I'll ask Dumbledore what that package was" Harry interrupted

"He won't tell you."

"OK, so I'll ask Hagrid again when he's calmed down."

"He'll ignore you again."

"Uh…I'll talk to the Gringotts goblins?" Sam offered as his last, feeble chance. He knew that would never happen, and Harry knew it too, as he didn't bother replying. This time, though, Susan spoke up.

"That won't happen. The goblins are very secretive with their clients, no matter what those clients are doing." Sam sighed. They had reached the warmth of the Entrance Hall, and Sam had realised he was tired.

"Well, whatever this thing is, I'm not finding out tonight, I'm going to bed. See you guys tomorrow?" asked Sam sleepily. Neville and Susan nodded and the four split up, Harry and Sam walking up to Ravenclaw Tower. Since they were finally alone, Sam said "Well, Harry, in answer to the question you asked me nearly six hours ago, everything went swimmingly. Dumbledore has the evidence, and…that's what happened." Harry grinned, and let out a sigh of relief.

"Great! So what happens now?" Sam shrugged

"We wait. There's nothing else either of us can do for now. Oh, and Harry? Did you start reading that book yet?" Harry hesitated and looked slightly guilty. Sam frowned "Well, make sure you do. Mind Magic is a fiendishly difficult subject, few master it and it can take a long time to learn. So I suggest you get started." Harry nodded emphatically as they arrived at the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room.

"Sam…what exactly are you planning to do with…Fluffy?" questioned Harry.

"Uh…I have no idea. We need to find out why he's there, but for now we have no way of doing that, so I suggest we let it lie…for now" Sam replied, grinning as he finished his sentence. Harry shrugged his shoulders and yawned. "Well, judging by that, I'd say we both need sleep. See you in the morning, Harry." As Sam strolled through the Common Room towards the dormitories, Harry asked one more question. "Sam...what does 'Ignavi Draco' mean?" Sam started to laugh "Oh, that? It's Latin. It's a literal translation of 'Cowardly Dragon'." Harry looked partially consumed with hilarity and partially terrified "You mean, his parent called him..." Sam grinned "Yep. Draco means Dragon." Harry burst out laughing.


	8. Flying 'Practice'

Well that update took unnecessarily long to emerge, and my sincerest apologies that it's taken so long and that you're getting so little for your patience. But this chapter will at least assuage any worries of my creating a perfect, immortal character. Read on! Oh, and warnings for some minor description of severe injuries.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

* * *

Chapter 7: Flying 'Practice'

The days passed quickly for Harry and Sam after the disastrous attempt to get information out of Hagrid long ahead of schedule. The leaves on the trees of the Forbidden Forest turned incredible shades of amber, red and brown, and a chill wind forced its way onto Hogwarts grounds, causing general annoyance and several brushes with frostbite. It was Sam's fault for failing to realise that age eleven did actually feel the cold, and failing to dress accordingly. The four friends continued to be friends, although Sam, with his natural introversion, found himself taking a backseat increasingly often over the weeks. It didn't bother Sam, as he was about as good company as your average...pumpkin. Strangely appropriate, considering the rapid approach of Halloween.

There was still no news of Sirius, and Sam had decided to go to Dumbledore as soon as possible to find out what was going on there. Sam had also had to beat a hasty retreat with Draco, as the whole statue business had not gone down awfully well with the Professor's, and although there was no definite link between Sam and the small incident, Dumbledore was a discerning man, and had given Sam every reason to suspect it was worth freeing Draco. Sam somehow suspected the experience wouldn't have a lasting effect on Draco's rather irritating attitude, although judging by the terrified glances across classrooms; there was at least a short term effect.

On the subject of classes, Sam was uneasy, in a good way though. This uneasiness was focused around the attitude of one Severus Snape. The normally greasy haired, impossibly angsty vampire bat of a professor who drew a sadistic pleasure on torturing the incompetence out of his students and had a desire for Harry Potters head on a stake was...strangely calm in his lessons. Treating people with respect, even, from what Sam had heard, Neville, whose Potions ability seemed to actually qualify as competent. Harry continued to read The Mind Arts, and Sam's occasional probing of what he was accomplishing never ceased to surprise Sam. By the start of October, Harry was capable of sustaining a thirty second defence-an absurd amount of progress, considering the fact that he had only had three weeks of practice and considering he was up against an opponent with, well, a lot of practice. And yet, even with his knowledge, something happened on a particularly chilly morning at the start of October which he did not expect.

"What? When did that get put in our schedule?" Sam yelped, spitting out the bacon he had been chewing on before Harry asked him casually over breakfast if he was looking forward to Flying Practice that afternoon. Susan and Neville-Sam had convinced his three friends that the whole 'stick with your House' policy was a joke-chuckled while Harry gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sam, do you even read your schedule, or do you just rely on me to tell you where to go? Oh, and try to keep anything you've been eating off of my plate in future?" Sam glared at Harry, even as he felt the blush spread across the base of his neck. "In answer to your question, Harry, you're absolutely correct. I'm just going to ignore your second statement" Harry flashed him a brilliant smile "and didn't you guys already have your Flying lesson? What's it like?" Neville and Susan glanced at each other, before Neville answered.

"Well...neither of us are great flyers," Susan laughed and nodded emphatically "so we probably aren't the best people to ask. I think you'd like it though, both of you."

Sam was curious "Why'd you say that?" Neville shrugged "You seem to enjoy danger." Sam stared at him for a second "I cannot tell if that was an insult or a compliment." Neville just gave him a dazzling smile, which Sam returned with a playful scowl before turning to Harry.

"So, what d'you think? I mean, flying? On a broomstick? Seems a bit…stereotypical, doesn't it?" Harry bobbed his head from side to side as if to say yes and no. "Well I know what you mean. But then again…it's flying! Surely that must excite even you, Sam?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"And what, Harry, is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I am nothing but an unexcitable madman?" Harry did the head bobbing thing "Well, yes." "In that case you have exactly the right measure of me. And no, I won't be excited until I'm out there doing it." Harry just groaned "You're impossible, you know that?" "Well, Harry, I'm so glad you finally-" "Ahem." This interruption from Susan had very different effects on the two boys, with Harry glancing around before realising Susan had interrupted, while Sam practically leapt out of his seat on the Ravenclaw bench in sheer terror. The reason for this was that Susan had produced a noise almost identical to the one produced by one Dolores Umbridge. This had the fairly standard effect on Sam.

As he waited for his heart rate to come down to at the very least the levels one might experience after inhaling a bag of sugar, he glanced up at Susan and just gasped "Never…ever…do that again, Susan. Ever." Susan nodded, seemingly a little nervous, although that was hardly surprising considering Sam's random outburst at a seemingly innocent thing. "Sorry, it's just…nothing. Just surprised me, is all." One look at his friend's faces told Sam none of them bought it for a moment.

"Oh yeah, definitely." Drawled Harry. "Just leaping out of your seat the moment someone clears their throat. We're not that stupid Sam. What's the matter?" Sam chuckled nervously "Don't know what you're talking about Harry. Nothing strange about me being surprised by something, is there? I mean, it's still early, I'm tired!"

Harry peered at Sam in a way which was eerily reminiscent of Dumbledore, reminiscent in the sense that it was the only look which truly made Sam squirm where he sat. After a couple of frozen seconds Harry relented with a sigh "Fine. What were you saying, Susan?" Susan, who had just put her head in her hands and was shaking it, mumbled "Just saying that  
everyone's left already, and we should probably do that too."

Harry and Sam looked at each other, and then around at the Great Hall-only to discover that Susan was correct. The Great Hall was almost entirely empty, with the few remaining students getting up to leave. "Uh...when did that happen?" Questioned Sam.

"Does it matter?" replied Neville "we need to get moving, as in now." The group nodded thoughtfully for a moment-before spontaneously leaping off of the benches and sprinting towards the Entrance Hall.

* * *

It was a mostly clear sky over Hogwarts as the group of students bobbed in the general direction of Flying Practice. Sadly, it was Autumn, and so a clear sky meant it was very, very cold-Sam never understood the bizarre link people had in their heads of clear sky meaning warmth. This was especially true when you were in Scotland, where the wind came from Siberia, the Atlantic, The Arctic, or England. Judging by the noise his teeth were making as they slammed against each other against Sam's will, he would have to say it was probably one of the first three.

Madam Hooch, the great flying instructor, was standing waiting for the group, robes flapping in the wind, the combination of her short spiky white hair and unusual, piercing yellowy-amber eyes making her look rather stern and intimidating. Which was fair enough, she had to ensure eleven year olds with broomsticks didn't end up with their necks pointing in the wrong direction, a task which surely required some fairly serious discipline.

The mixed group of Slytherin's and Ravenclaw's bobbed over to stand in front of Madam Hooch, who barked out in a clear, sharp voice which seemed to have specifically developed to drop any trace of femininity: "Alright, class, settle down." The standard aura of noise that surrounded a group of students died out quickly "Excellent. Now, welcome to your first flying lesson. My name is Madam Hooch, and it's my job to teach you how to fly safely and responsibly. Now, we're not going to be doing any actual flying today" a groan arose from most of the class "but we'll be getting onto that soon enough!"

"Now, on the ground around me there are brooms. I want you to each go and stand next to one. Off you go!" They each went off and stood next to one of the sadly ancient Hogwarts training brooms. They did not appear to be in great condition, most likely held together by enchantment, with strips of wood peeling off the otherwise polished handle, and the twigs at the bottom of the broom were snapped, uneven and rough. Sam stood next to his choice of broom and glanced over at Harry, who was to his left, with a sceptical eyebrow raised. It simply didn't look like this piece of wood could fly, magic or no magic. Harry just shrugged, and gestured at Madam Hooch, who was clearly preparing to speak.

"Now class, next to you is the standard method of transport for witches and wizards: the broomstick. Not the best broomsticks, but they're all we've got today. Now, the first step is to get your broom to work _with _you. So, when I give the word, hold your hand above the broom and say clearly 'up!'"

They all did this, and Sam's broomstick shot up into the air...and just sort of hung there, suspended, perfectly motionless and unaffected by the wind. Sam stared at it for a few moments, eyebrows raised, waiting for something significant to happen. Nothing did. Looking around to see other people's progress, Sam saw a few people he vaguely recognized Terry Boot, who's broom was making weak, fish-out-of-water style leaps into the air before flopping back down, and then there was...ah. That appeared to be Theodore Nott, looking smug at his actually rather unremarkable success.  
Nott was quite worrying, if only because Sam didn't know a damn thing about him. He was, in physical appearance at least, almost unnerving, with an almost skeletally thin body, coupled with the lines on his face you're just not supposed to have at the age of eleven, the piercing olive eyes inlaid in his skull and the short matted shadowy hair, Nott was probably the most intimidating eleven year old in history. Lovely, someone else Sam needed to keep an eye on, just-  
Sam did not finish his train of thought, as suddenly he was knocked sideways into the moist earth as he felt something slam into the palm of his right hand, sending him sprawling onto the ground, splattering his hair and robes with mud and giving him a faint ringing sensation in the back of his mind. His hand had started to ache as well. Sam blinked to get his bearings, and found himself staring into the faces of Harry and Madam Hooch. "Mr Griffiths! What happened?" Sam coughed and sat up "Well, my broom was just sort of hovering, and then I got distracted and it must have flown up." Sam had a look at his hand. It was bright red, with what appeared to be a rather nasty bruise springing up, judging by the way his hand felt. "Yeah, it was definitely the broom.

Sam began to get up, before Harry offered his hand. Taking it gratefully, Sam got to his feet and brushed himself off while Harry and Madam Hooch interrogated him "You alright Sam?" "Yeah, I'm fine. No, really" Sam added, upon seeing the normal sceptical look the moment the words 'I'm fine' are used. "Are you fit to continue then, Mr Griffiths?" asked Madam Hooch "Yeah, of course." Madam Hooch nodded and turned away. Harry laughed, and Sam gave him an irritated look "What?" "Sorry, but that was quite funny" laughed Harry "Yeah, I'll bet it was" muttered Sam darkly, before leaning over and picking his broom up from the ground. Harry continued to chuckle as Madam Hooch started speaking again.

"Excellent work class, very impressive. Now, we're going to have a simple test to find out how good you are in control of a broom. So, I want you to come forward when I call your name so I can put you through your paces."

Madam Hooch produced a piece of parchment from her robes and began reading off what Sam presumed was a register and began listing off names. As far as Sam could tell, the test involved getting onto the broom and seeing weather or not you shoot off into the sky. Overall quality of flying was not great, unsurprisingly, the class all being first years who hadn't flown before, regardless of what Draco may or may not have said when he thought he was out of earshot of Sam. A helicopter indeed!

"Griffiths, Samuel!" called out Madam Hooch, and Sam trudged forward with his broom in hand, glancing up at the sky apprehensively. Flying without roughly two inches of aluminium between him and the atmosphere quite frankly terrified Sam. Not that he would ever show it. He stood next to Madam Hooch and mounted the broom. "Good, now _will _the broom to float, yes, like that" Sam was now hovering about two feet off the ground. The sensation of his feet not touching anything was strangely…exhilarating. Interesting. "Now, see how high you can go…_be careful_!"

Sam was nearly ten feet up at that point, and had been buffeted about by the wind a bit. To his surprise it didn't have that much of an effect, although Sam suspected this was more due to the broom than anything else. Sam looked around from his position in the air. There was a Herbology class down at the greenhouses, and Hagrid was sitting outside his Hut with Fang. There was a student gazing out of the window in one of the towers of Hogwarts. It was beautiful…less of a school, more of a home where you just happened to learn useful things. Sam grinned as Madam Hooch's voice called "All right Mr Griffiths, well done indeed, come on down now!" Sam began to manoeuvre downwards towards the ground, and was mere moments away from setting down when something entirely new went wrong.

Sam could feel it long before it actually did anything, he reflected later; like an electric current running through his body, just under his skin. Crackling away, making movements he didn't expect to make, causing random itches to burst up and then subside. Sam hadn't though much of it, such sensations were fairly common with someone of his particular talents, and it had certainly never done anything of this simple scale before.

Sam was a mere three feet off the ground when it happened, when the black spark appeared at the edge of his thumb, which was tightly gripping the broom. Sam saw the spark, and saw it as it seemed to hop along the broomstick before reaching the tip of the old broom. Then it vanished, leaving behind a trace which only Sam could see: a thin black layer of energy veiling the broom. Sam stopped descending and just hung there, waiting for something to happen. It did.

Sam had closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, and so only heard the sudden, massive rush of cold air around him, before it all slammed into his face as he shot upwards at an absurd speed up towards the clouds, twisting and turning wildly as he struggled to stay on the broom as it rattled and vibrated under what Sam's at that moment chaotic mind thought was the sheer force of the energy, and the effect it was having on the old broom.

Sam had no way of guessing how fast he was going, all he knew was he regretted opening his eyes the minute he did so, as they were immediately assaulted by the brutal sensation of water vapour flooding them. Sam did realise that he was going to have to turn or the air was going to get even colder…and even thinner. Sam was starting to have trouble breathing, and that would only get worse as he got higher up.

Sam breathed in deeply, and attempted to clear his mind. Or at least shove all the clutter into one corner. Of course, the abject terror was a little difficult to keep down, but he worked with what he had as he attempted to just get the broom to _slow down_. No such luck, but he could just force the broom with his sheer willpower to turn around. This of course meant that he would slam headlong into the ground instead of space, but Sam could at least theoretically survive slamming into the ground. Of course, not slamming into anything would be preferable, but that bridge would be crossed when Sam got there.

What continued for the next few minutes was a bizarre mixture of terror and hilarity as he span around in the air, hands frozen to the broom, eyes blinking constantly as his eyes dried out as soon as they opened, trying desperately to gain some form of control over the broom as he just influenced its direction enough to avoid an unpleasant death every few seconds. With a ragged gasp Sam re-entered the clouds and started freezing to death again. Right, back down once more.

Down wasn't much better. Below the clouds, Sam could actually see how high up he was, and Sam was lucky he had a half decent set of organs, or he would probably have lost his breakfast already. Needless to say, he was very high up indeed. The broom was still rattling along at a ridiculous rate, but Sam had noticed that the layer of black energy was thinning. Almost like a fuel source. Interesting.

Sam's train of thought was interrupted by the broom taking a sudden, violent dip towards the ground at an almost 180o angle. Even in his situation, Sam couldn't help but feel alive as the wind rushed into his face and through his hair, filling his lungs with air and making his robes fly in the air behind him. The sensation was truly incredible. Especially since he was gaining more and more control over the broom as the mysterious energy over the broom dried up, which was nice.

Feeling confident, Sam decided to try and wrench full control of the broom away from this energy. To his immense surprise, his minds attempts to force the broom to slow down met with success, and almost at once the broom had slowed down nearly to a stop at a position overlooking the lake.

Sam gazed out over the lake. It was a beautiful lake, large, and although it wasn't obvious, Sam knew it was a deep one. Somewhere in that water lived a giant squid, a most magnificent of creatures, along with the interesting Merpeople and Grindylow's. The far bank of the lake was lined with the trees of the forbidden forest, and Sam knew that around the cliff formations on the left hand side lay the village of Hogsmeade. The rippling water made beautiful patterns of light as the sun shone down onto the lake.

Sam turned the broom away from the vista and began to carefully head back towards Madam Hooch and the class, fear of another unknown force doing something unexpected. Sam was uneasy that something he had never heard of had been capable of coming out of nowhere, hijacking the enchantments on the broom completely and then resist his attempts to wrest control of the broom. He would have to find out what he was dealing with as soon as possible.

Sam could see where the class was; even as he got lower they were still small specks on an emerald canvas. His descent was cautiously slow, and he decided after the fifth buffet of wind that he should hug the side of the tower-he didn't know which one it was-to provide some shelter. This was probably what caused the second incident of that day.

Sam was edging with caution around the outside of the tower towards the class, sheltered by the tower from the violent winds, and was just a few minutes edging would have had him safe and secure on the ground. So that obviously didn't happen. What did happen was a sudden change in the direction the wind was blowing.

Sam knew things were going to go badly when he felt the icy bite of the wind smack into the side of his body not covered by the tower. The wind began to pick up even more speed, and Sam tried, the faint pang of panic starting to leak into the back of his mind, to orient himself away from the tower. No such luck. The gust of cold air that came at him as he desperately tried to will the broomstick away from the tower back into the open air was surely worthy of a small hurricane, but Sam didn't have that thought at that moment.

The wind smashed into him, and tore the broomstick and Sam along with it, carrying a decrepit broomstick and an utterly terrified Sam headlong into a very hard stone tower with a sickening crunch of bone, sending a surge of pure, undiluted pain through the left side of his body as every bone in his right flank spontaneously smashed apart. Any normal human would have been killed instantly either from the impact, or the shock of his arms fragments suddenly being on the wrong side of his skin. Sam was no normal person, but that didn't stop him from letting out a ragged scream of agony at the impact into a hard stone wall.

The shock and terror he was experiencing were not helped by the fact he was now heading into a direct free-fall towards the earth, totally at the mercy of the laws of physics as he spiralled towards the ground, the bloodied and torn skin of what used to be his arm flying limply behind him as he tumbled to earth.

At one point his less than straight flight path sent him straight back into the tower, except on a different flank, and he screamed in pain once more as the bones on his left side were obliterated upon the stone like waves breaking on the cliffs of Dover. Then he was off again, back into the open air, the wind rushing around him as he prepared for a collision he knew he probably wasn't supposed to survive.

As he neared the hard, cold earth Sam reflected, in an obscure part of his brain utterly unaffected by the wrenching agony he was experiencing, on the fact that it was not difficult to get extremely badly hurt at Hogwarts. Surely there was some kind of insurance claim to be made there? It wasn't exactly his fault that a Hogwarts broom had gone out of control, well, maybe it was, he didn't know yet, but still…he would have to ask someone about that. Obviously, this part of his brain had very little input into Sam's mental processes, most of which at that moment were clogged up with a single thought, most of which were equivalent to the noise he was making at that precise moment: "_AAAARRRGHHH!" _

He had managed to keep his eyes open until he was just a few moments away from the ground, but he was overwhelmed by the terror when he was a few metres away from the ground, and he clenched his eyes shut just before the moment of painful collision.

The same part of his mind that had been thinking about insurance mused about the fact that closing his eyes beforehand had saved a great deal of effort, as his skull began to cave in, his neck began to collapse into his chest and the lights flickered off across his brain.

* * *

Well, that was painful. Hmmm, I'm slightly worried about the fact that my best writing (such as it is) only emerges when I'm writing about the way people get hurt. Ah well, I hope you all enjoyed! I'll try and get updates out quicker from now on. Any criticism (constructive, naturally) is welcome. EDIT 5 minutes after publishing: Oh, and I've decided to remove the humor categorization, the story will still try to be funny, but it won't be a focus. As if it has until now.

See ya!


	9. Toe-To-Toe with Draco

Disclaimer:All content pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is the property of the author JK Rowling, and is in no way associated with me. I am not claiming ownership of any content pertaining to Rowling's work.

Hi! Some warnings here for description of rather serious injuries.

* * *

Chapter 8: Toe-to-toe with Draco.

Harry watched in horror as Sam smashed into the tower, wincing as he saw Sam's body bend and break as he bounced off the cold, hard stone. Somewhere around him a girl let out a deafening scream, but Harry paid no attention, simply staring, frozen to the ground as his friend tumbled through the air towards the cold, hard mud. His eyes watched the spectacle of horror, dragging him to sights he didn't want to see; the arm that trailed, lifeless, behind Sam as he fell, the second collision with the tower, Sam's twisting, lifeless fall to earth.

Then the collision. It was as if it was happening right in front of Harry, the sickening crunching and cracking of breaking bones as Sam smashed into the ground didn't take a great deal of imagination, and the amount of mud and dirt launched into the air, making a swirling cloud of muddy air, accounted for the sheer speed of the impact.  
Harry was faintly aware of the fact that he had started moving, started running, his mind numb and unaware to the rest of the world, towards the rapidly dissipating cloud of mud and the crater it veiled, in which his friend now lay.

The run seemed to last an eternity, his legs carrying him forward almost against his will, towards his battered and broken friend lying in the cold earth. Harry could hear a long-suffering voice in the back of his mind that had been with him as long as he could remember, telling him exactly what he didn't want to hear, that Sam was hurt, that he was dying, that he might already-  
No. Harry's mind managed to shut that one down before Harry became any more panicked, usefully, since he had arrived, panting and breathless yet uncaring, at the rim of the crater, and he had already more than fulfilled his standard quota of panic. A matter not helped by the crater.

It was not like the crater caused by a meteorite, not a flaming, smoky crater, not filled with the possibility of the unknown. No, this was just a muddy, blood-spattered hole in the ground, a dark gash in the earth, with large areas of that gash painted in crimson blood. Harry could feel the bile rising into his throat, and then he saw Sam, slightly obscured by the earth. This time, Harry had to turn away and vomit at the sight he was presented with.

Sam was lying face down in the mud, a great cavity in his skull, revealing the gruesome sight of an exposed brain, crisscrossed with the trenches of flesh, trenches filled with crimson blood and muddy shards of bone, with deep lacerations into the vital organ. His head was lolling to one side, and it was obvious that his right ear had been severely damaged, attached to the remnants of the head by a thin strip of skin and ligament. The one eye which was visible-the other was buried in the mud-was unblinking and clouded, staring silently into the sky, the usually energetic gaze for once deadened. Harry barely registered his breakfast's journey from his stomach to the floor in his advanced state of shock.

Fortunately, Harry had not been the only one to run over when Sam had hit the ground, and Madam Hooch took charge, leaping into the crater and dashing over to Sam, and with a quick incantation of "Atollo" had revealed the rest of Sam's mutilated body from underneath the layer of dirt. Harry almost wished she hadn't, with Sam's body being in much the same state as his head.

The neck seemed to have caved in, with the head roughly where the upper part of the ribcage would be, and the left hand collar bone rupturing out of the skin, like a miniature version of some twisted sacrificial alter; pure white, but speckled with small drops of fresh blood. The other end of the collarbone had done the opposite; smashing through Sam's chest. Or what little remained of his chest.

Harry later guessed that at least thirteen of Sam's twenty- four ribs had broken in some way; where Sam had been lucky they had simply fractured or cracked, but in some places the ribs had thrust upwards and punctured Sam's skin and continued through his robes, creating a macabre mixture of skeletal spikes protruding from Sam's chest, and dark red stains spreading slowly across the front of Sam's robes.

Even worse than the ruined chest and the broken head were the limbs…or rather, the distinct lack of said limbs. The arms were the worst, covered in lacerations from where hundreds of tiny bone fragments had burst outward from the arm and torn through everything in their path, leaving nothing but bleeding, deflated balloons of arms with a few useless scraps of skin and muscle which used to be hands hanging limply off the end of the useless balloons. The legs were little better, with a rupture in the thigh caused by the spontaneous explosion of the femur on both legs, creating an appalling concoction of blood, muscle and bone on the ground around the wretched limbs.

All in all, with the majority of Sam's bones smashed, blood bursting out of his body in morbid geysers from the numerous cracks and crevices across the body, and with many of the vital organs compromised at best, Sam had no real right to be alive. Harry knew this, even if he so desperately didn't want to accept it, which was why he felt so despondent as Madam Hooch leaned down to the base of Sam's neck to presumably take a pulse, and why he was so surprised when she gasped out loud.

Seizing a string of hope, Harry cried out "What? What is it? Is he alright?" Madam Hooch straightened up and pulled out her wand, before muttering "Petrificus Totalus", causing Sam to stop moving completely, no irregular rise and fall of a ruined chest, and a halt to the stream of blood, hopefully preventing a death…at least imminently. Once Madam Hooch was satisfied with this, she intoned "Leva Sequere", causing Sam to rise slowly into the air before floating into a position just behind Madam Hooch, his body locked in the broken and battered position it was in as it drifted eerily along behind Madam Hooch as she climbed out of the crater.

"Mr Potter, I need to get your friend up to the Hospital Wing. I must ask you to remain here until I know more." Harry tried to argue, but Madam Hooch cut him off "No, Mr Potter. I need to move him, and you are to remain here until I return for you, is that understood?" The flying instructor looked down at Harry with her cutting amber eyes, forcing Harry to reluctantly acquiesce. "Thank you, Mr Potter. I will return shortly, please rejoin the class."

With that, she began to lightly jog over the Grounds towards the main gate of the castle. Harry watched her go with his emotions swirling around violently in his head. Part of him was angry, angry that he couldn't go with Madam Hooch, Sam was his friend, didn't he deserve to go with him when he was like that? Another part of him was despondent. Harry had seen Sam's injuries, and he just couldn't see how any doctor could possibly fix that. And he was…confused. What had happened to Sam's broomstick? Why had Sam lost control?

It was strange, seeing Sam in such a vulnerable position. He had radiated an aura of confidence over the last two months, and Harry hated seeing his friend in that horrific position. He still felt sick too, his stomach now very empty. There was a metallic smell of what Harry realised with a horrible start was blood drifting through the air now, defying even the still-howling winds in its efforts to inundate Harry's nose.

Harry was so engrossed in his emotions that he had utterly failed to notice the rest of the class running over, and jumped when a loud, shrill scream pierced the air, sending a flock of birds in the Forbidden Forest squawking into the air. The ear-splitting scream was accompanied by the sound of vomit hitting the ground, and a wave of sickened and disgusted muttering at the scene. Harry mostly ignored them, lost as he was in his thoughts, until he was shaken out of his reverie by Terry Boot, a typically intelligent Ravenclaw who was fortunate enough to have an added portion of emotion.

"Ah…Harry?" Harry turned to the boy, who was of average height for his age, with long, smooth black hair and coffee brown eyes. "Yes?" Harry croaked in a weak, uncertain voice. Terry looked uncomfortable "Well...is Sam alright? I mean...God, we all saw him." Harry sighed "I don't know. Madam Hooch wouldn't tell me anything. I'm sorry." He finished shakily, his nerves still frayed. Terry waved him off, looking shaky himself, glancing edgily into the crater. "No, it's fine, I understand. Well, I hope he turns out well." Harry have him a weak , grateful smile, before turning away to a sight he had hoped he wouldn't have to see; Draco Malfoy and a gang of other Slytherin's sauntering over. Clearly they didn't care enough to come rushing over.  
Harry was absolutely certain about how this encounter would end-the same way it always did, with a fight of some sort, the only question was what sort of fight. Harry definitely felt much less secure without Sam there. Sam was most certainly the magically superior one, regardless of his promise to teach Harry, and Draco had, from what Sam had told him, had access to some form of magical training from his family.

Harry gave the slowly approaching group a once over, carefully observing the five sauntering kids, emitting an aura of arrogance as they strolled over, nasty, thin smirks on their face.

Most prominent was the...esteemed...Draco Malfoy, calm, poised and with the general air of someone striding towards a great victory. On his left, standing interestingly close to his arm, was a short, hard-faced girl who Harry recognised had been with Draco a lot when Harry saw him . Next to her was what appeared to be a skeleton, who Harry had noticed Sam glancing wearily at earlier. Harry could see why, seeing as how the boy's eyes seemed more like they had been inlaid into his skull, as opposed to naturally developed there.

Harry did recognise the two people on Draco's right: they had been on the train when the three boys had walked into the compartment. Vincent Crabbe looked not unlike a gorilla, with a large build, although Harry couldn't tell if it was muscle or fat which caused this size, and with small, piggy black eyes. There was a certain dullness in these eyes which made it seem as if he was just a drone of Draco.

Next to Crabbe was what appeared to be a slightly taller gorilla, another silent, hulking drone. Gregory Goyle had the same large build, with short, bristly brown hair which would have looked quite nice on a better shaped face, and those same dulled eyes which seemed to indicate a greater intelligence within.

Harry's observations were interrupted when Draco noticed Harry and called out in a laughing, mocking tone "Hey! Hey, Potter! Griffiths not looking so strong now is he?" Crabbe and Goyle let out slow, stupid guffaws, whereas the two Harry didn't recognise just smirked in a worryingly intelligent fashion. Harry was not entirely confident he was capable of controlling this situation on his own. Maybe with Neville and Susan, definitely with Sam, but alone? Against five Slytherin's and an uncertain amount of backup from the rest of his house? Not a chance. Didn't mean he couldn't try.

"Don't think you would have said that after what happened a few weeks ago. Remember that Malfoy? Or is the memory too much for your little mind?" Harry couldn't help but smirk when he heard a light chuckle from the Ravenclaw's when he said the last part. Draco seemed unaffected anyway, to Harry's disappointment, as his face contorted into a sneer.

"Yes, well, this is just a little more humiliating, isn't it? Losing control of your broom? Smashing into a big tower? At least I went down fighting, not in some stupid, easy to avoid accident! Now, out of my way, I want to have a look around!" With that, Draco walked forward, shoving Harry and several others aside before leaping down into the crater, showing a worrying lack of care for the blood and the mud, even as his fellow Slytherin's refrained from climbing down, arrogant sneer's on their faces, like some mediaeval aristocrat looking down onto the peasants in the mud. The irony of them looking down on their ringleader was not lost on Harry.

"Draco, what are you doing?" Called out the girl "You're getting terribly muddy, what are you doing, anyway?" Even her voice was arrogant enough to grind on Harry's soul. Draco just laughed, and cried out "Savouring victory!" That was a step too far for Harry, and the anger which had been bubbling under the surface finally boiled over "VICTORY? WHAT VICTORY WOULD THIS BE?" shouted Harry, anger and frustration evident in his voice as he stalked up to the edge of the crater, looking furiously between the boy standing below him, and the group of fools looking at him like he was nothing.

"Well? What victory? This accident? Are you actually going to claim responsibility for something you just admitted was an accident? And do you actually DARE to insult someone who, at this very moment, is lying broken in the Hospital Wing? Well?" To Harry's intense disappointment his outburst seemed to have little to no effect on the young Malfoy.

Sighing in an exaggerated and overall absurd manner, Draco swaggered up to the edge near where Harry was standing and leaned confidently against the edge, strangely uncaring as the mud spoiled his immaculate, expensive robes. "But Potter, why do you care?" He asked, his stony grey eyes peering at Harry, his head cocked and bearing a look of genuine curiosity. Harry frowned, wondering what he meant "I can see you don't know what I mean. Well, you see Potter, some people are more wizard than others. I, myself, have two wizarding parents, which makes me more of a wizard. You have two as well. But your friend Griffiths...he has none. He is inferior, he's less of a wizard, so again I ask you: why do you care?"

Harry just stared at him, utterly disgusted at the show of what was essentially racism. He answered, his voice the very essence of loathing and disgust "Malfoy, I treat people based on how they treat me. Not on how much of a 'wizard' they are! He has treated me well, something...something very few people have done. You, however, have not. So I don't really think that some half-baked argument about how your parents make you any more or less of a wizard is going to change my mind on that!" Harry came to a halt, taking a steady breath of air as he felt his anger flow out of his body with his words.

Draco, however, seemed to have only heard some of the sentence "What do you mean 'only a few people'? Haven't you been treated well?" Harry glared suspiciously at the boy, wondering what his motive was "No. I lived with my muggle relatives until I came here, and saying that they didn't treat me well would be an understatement." Harry had hoped, just for one moment that this would bring some form of reconciliation. He should have known better.

"Well then, why do you like someone with muggle parents, if you were treated badly by muggles?" Draco demanded, simply seizing on the knowledge that his opponent had been abused to further his own racist arguments. How very disappointing.

"Malfoy, just because three people treat me badly doesn't mean they all do!" responded Harry in exasperation. "Don't you get it? Sam has treated me well, so I treat him well!" Draco just sighed and shook his head, before turning away and starting to walk back over to his clique of drones. He just couldn't resist one last barb though, and turned back and called in a voice that was mostly mocking but seemed to have an undertone of disappointment in it "That thinking will be your downfall, Potter! Don't forget that I offered!"  
He moved to rejoin his drones on the far side of the crater, but as he moved Harry noticed the sunlight gleam off of something sticking out of the ground, something which appeared to be wooden, thin…and polished. Ah. Apparently Sam's wand had survived the impact, but had been thrown free of Sam's body when he hit the ground.

"Hey! Hey, Potter, what're you staring at?" called the girl standing outside of the crater. Harry glanced up, not at the girl, but at Draco, who had just done the same thing. He had seen Sam's wand as well, and an evil, twisted smile was spreading slowly across his face as stony eyes met emerald, before Harry leapt into the crater in an effort to get to the wand before Draco. The gap between them was too great however, and Draco effortlessly leant over and plucked the elegant oaken wand from the dirt.

That arrogant, evil grin danced on Draco's face as he effortlessly twirled Sam's wand between his fingers "Well, well, well…what shall I do with this?" Harry just stared at him carefully, debating internally what he should do next-go for Draco? He didn't know how Draco would react. Then again, he didn't know how Draco would react if he just bided his time either. "You know, Potter, if you say that it doesn't matter if Griffiths is a wizard or not, then it really shouldn't matter if he loses this, should it?"

There was a gasp of horror from the people around the crater, even Draco's people seemed stunned by this shocking question. Harry gritted his teeth in anger, he had a fairly good idea of the consequences of losing your wand. He would be damned if Draco put Sam through any of that.  
"Malfoy...I heavily recommend that you give that here, or something unpleasant might happen to you very shortly..." Harry ground this out through his clenched teeth, knowing the threat was very obviously empty.

"Oh, I think not Potter. After all," Draco's lip curled into a sneer. "I don't think he needed this very much, anyway, so let's find out!" Time seemed to slow down as Draco clasped the wand in his uncalloused hands and made to bring his hands down in a snapping motion. Harry acted on instinct.

Digging into his memory for an incantation he vaguely remembered Sam muttering under his breath when he had been talking about his breaking into the Ministry, before drawing his wand quickly and intoning "_Attono!" _Harry's wand snapped backwards like a whip, letting out a loud snapping noise and shooting out a bolt of pale red light towards Draco.

Draco's eyes widened in shock as the bolt shot towards him and slammed into his chest, not pushing him backwards but forcing him down onto his knees, making him drop Sam's wand which buried itself in the ground again. Harry almost ended up in the same position, the spell was probably far beyond his level and had left him feeling tired and drained.

Draco and Harry raised their heads to look at each other, eyes both burning with anger. "Well, Potter" spat Draco "Seems you might know something after all. But I was raised around magic...you can't possibly deal with me!" With that, he straightened out again and raised his exquisite hawthorn wand, with a padded black leather handle. In a rasping voice, he cried out "_Amycticus!_"

A bolt of pale blue light shot out of the end of the wand and shot towards Harry, twisting and turning through the air. Harry tried to drag himself out of the way, but the bolt slammed into his foot. At first, Harry thought nothing had happened, but then he felt an intense scratching feeling begin to develop, forcing Harry to start hopping from foot to foot to stop the irritating sensation from becoming outright painful.

He didn't want to admit it, but as he danced lightly between his feet, he started to face the fact that he was basically hopelessly outmatched . It seemed that Draco had realised this as well, judging by the sly grin drifting onto his face as he raised his wand again, a spell on his lips. Then Harry had an idea.

Harry heard the shout of "Languor!", and saw the spike of sickly, vomit-yellow energy which dragged itself out of Draco's wand and hurled itself towards him, but he never felt the effect, as he utilised the intense scratching to make himself topple out of the way, causing the spell to splash harmlessly against the edge of the crater. Unfortunately, this resulted in Harry being in a completely defenceless position face down in the blood splattered mud.

He rolled over, the metallic taste of blood mixed with dirt on his lips, his face ingrained with the earth. Draco was still standing where he had been, wand now trained on Harry's new position, an air of final victory in his stance, an attitude which was not unjustified, Harry conceded, considering the position both of them found themselves in at that point.

Harry stood across from Draco, wand raised but not knowing what he could do with it. He simply didn't know what he could do against someone with what was clearly an advanced understanding of magic. Or at least an understanding far greater than his. He breathed heavily as he waited for Draco to do something. The scratching was becoming painful, and felt as if it was actually scratching his leg bones.

"Well then, Potter" mocked Draco "it would appear that the game is up!" Harry just glared at the boy, knowing there was nothing he could do. Then, a voice cried out from the crowd which had gathered around the crater. "Harry!" It was, Harry found out when he turned to the source of the voice, Anthony Goldstein, another of the boys in the Ravenclaw dormitory. A short, blond, blue eyed and extremely intelligent boy, who was, Harry quickly surmised, extremely useful in the situation he found himself in. "Use '_Iacta'_! Quickly!" Harry nodded, and turned to Draco.

The smile had vanished from the Malfoy heir's face, and had been replaced with an expression as stony as his eyes. Clearly he knew what the spell would do, even if Harry didn't have the faintest idea himself. He took a deep breath, raised his wand and murmured, almost to himself "_Iacta._" For a moment, the world held its breath, anticipating whether or not anything would happen. Then, something happened.

A misty grey rope extended from the glowing tip of Harry's wand and rushed forward, wrapping itself around Draco's arm and twisting it violently, not so much as to cause actual pain, but enough to force the pale and open, making the wand drop to ground, where it lay, motionless and powerless, on the ground, the spell on Draco's lips pointless and useless. Harry gave a weak, triumphant grin when he saw Draco's shocked and outraged face, as if appalled that someone he viewed as inferior could possibly defeat him.

The triumph was short lived, however, as a violent crack echoed through the air, and the group around the crater swivelled around to look for the source, save for one small area, which parted to reveal the tiny form of Professor Flitwick, the normally cheerful and light-hearted face a picture of icy anger. When he spoke, his voice was the picture of clipped, cold anger. "Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, with me please." With that, he swung around and headed back towards the castle, leaving Harry and Draco to clamber out of the crater themselves before dashing off after the Professor.

The walk up to the castle was utterly silent once they left the muttering crowd of students, save for the continuing howl of the wind. As they strolled along the stone hallways and staircases Harry's stomach seemed to droop as he contemplated the possible consequences. He was uncertain how far into the wrong he was, he wasn't really supposed to use magic, and he _had _fired the first shot, but he had been doing it to defend Sam's wand…which was still lying down in the crater. Damn! Harry would have to worry about that later, as he had rather more immediate problems.

It seemed time around Sam made the mind more rational, as he was able to see the reasons he wouldn't be expelled, especially since Professor Dumbledore would probably have to be involved with that, and the situation there would probably work out to Harry's advantage. There was also the fact that none of the spell's Harry used had been intended to cause harm, just to protect his friends wand. Surely that would be enough for…for whoever they were being marched towards?

In the midst of all of Harry's thoughts, he worried about Sam. He had been too distracted by the fight and the confusion, and Sam's injuries had been shoved to the back of his mind. But now, those worries, and the horrific images of his injuries that came with them, flooded back into his mind. He knew that, in theory at least, he was secure in the Hospital Wing. In theory. Human nature, however, dictated he continue to worry about his friend until he actually physically saw he was safe.

It seemed, however, that the three had arrived at their destination. Dumbledore's Office, as Harry had suspected. Professor Flitwick strode up to the gargoyle and spoke the password in a clear voice, utterly devoid of the normal squeaking tone. Harry made to ascend the stairwell, but Professor Flitwick held out his arm to stop him, before saying "Mr Malfoy, please go upstairs. The Headmaster knows why you are here." Draco said nothing, and walked up the staircase.

After the gargoyle had slid back into place with a shuddering creak, Professor Flitwick relaxed his shoulders and ran his tiny hand through his hair. "Well, Harry, that was certainly an interesting one." Harry immediately noted the use of his first name. "I saw what happened. You did very well." He beckoned down the corridor "Walk with me, please."

Harry hesitated for a moment, confused. Then he nodded, and the two began to stroll at a steady pace down the empty stone corridors. "I was watching from my office window. You know, when you first arrived in my house, I wondered why. Oh no," he added hastily "not because you didn't meet the criteria, quite the opposite…but your parents were both in Gryffindor, and people tend to take after their parents when it comes to house. Of course, there are exceptions. You, for instance."

He laughed "But back to my point-I've stopped wondering now. You see, in that duel, after you used _Attono_-you'll need to tell me how you learnt that, by the way-you did the smart thing, and held back. Most people would have kept attacking, worn themselves down, and then fainted. And then there'd be two people with no wand. That, more than anything, proved to me why you're in Ravenclaw. But it also gave rise to an idea."

The Professor stopped, causing Harry to stop as well and turn to the Professor. "You see, Harry, for many years I have been attempting to convince the Headmaster that we should enforce a more practical approach to magic with a…Duelling Club. You see, I was considered something of an expert when I was younger, and I feel that those skills should be passed on. For many years, I have been blocked."

He sighed "I hope you don't mind my using your situation like this, Harry, but I would like to ask that you support me this year with getting this Duelling Club open. Professor Dumbledore will likely be in opposition again…but someone of your…importance…will likely force him to let it go."

Harry cocked his head, weighing up the information he had just been given. On one hand, Professor Flitwick seemed very honest, and he made a good case with the teaching of practical magic. He also knew from what Sam had told him that he was being modest-he had been renowned as a Duelling Champion mere decades ago. He was assured that 'mere decades' meant what it sounded like to witches and wizards. On the other hand…

"Sir…surely Professor Dumbledore has good reason for blocking these plans? Why else would he block the teaching of practical magic?" Professor Flitwick sighed "Yes, well…it must be made clear, it is not that he disapproves, but that he simply refuses to stand in the path of the Board of Governors, who have decided that 'the risks of teaching this magic to such young students are too great to justify the potential benefits in this time of peace and prosperity'". Professor Flitwick peered at Harry "Can you guess, Harry, who made that statement?"

Harry felt a knot of anger twist in his stomach "Lucius Malfoy. Who's case has just gotten stronger." Professor Flitwick nodded "Exactly. However, this matter is technically the Headmaster's decision, he just chooses to defer to the Governors. If we can convince him to make the decision himself, however, Lucius Malfoy cannot force his opinion onto the Headmaster." Harry nodded slowly.

"Well, Professor, it seems like an excellent idea, especially after what just happened. Are you sure we can convince the Headmaster though?" the tiny Professor smiled "Absolutely, with your help, I think the Headmaster will concede the necessity." He paused "Thank you, Harry, this means a great deal to me. Now, I'll speak to you when I go speak to the Headmaster. For now, stay quiet about it." A grin spread across his face "Oh, and you'd best go check on Sam. He should be fine, Madam Pomfrey is a superb Healer, and if anyone can save Sam, it's her." Harry nodded, a smile on his face, before running off down the corridors towards the Hospital Wing.

* * *

So yeah, there ya go! Longest chapter yet, and diving into Harry's mind for a bit. Seeing as how the thoughts of the mortally wounded are probably not that interesting. Also, I decided to mix things up a bit with the whole consequences-of-Flying-Practice thing. Obviously. I thought it would be interesting, so tell me what ya think! See you next time, where we find out what has happened to Sam (as soon as I decide).


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